


The Service

by rutobuka



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Female Bilbo, Female Thorin Oakenshield, Hand Jobs, Massage, Masturbation, Modern Middle Earth, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Pining, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 85,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9268445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rutobuka/pseuds/rutobuka
Summary: Thorin receives a recommendation for a service that promises to relieve her stress. With every soft, sweet-smelling touch, she learns just what she's been missing in her life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my legit first published fic!  
> Please read the tags carefully before continuing, as they will be changed with every new published chapter.
> 
> Thanks to mcmanatea, hiddenkitty, mithrilbikini, and yubiwamonogatari for the constant support and awesome beta.

 

_“Who would ever want to go out with a woman like you?”_

A grave, mocking voice fills her brain. It shouldn’t get to her, but it does. It is.

Thorin sits on her leather chair, staring at the computer screen. She doesn’t know how long it’s been since her hands stopped moving on the keyboard, but she can feel a small pull of pain in her wrists, in her back, and on her bottom, from sitting there for too long.

She looks up, finally snapping out from her daze, and remembers she needs to unload the washing machine before deciding what to do for dinner. Standing up, she feels her knees pop, and picks up her smartphone before walking to the kitchen area.

Her apartment has always been described as a bit bland by her family, but she likes it the way it is. Thorin appreciates the way the tiles feel cool during the summer, so she can sit down to play and record her music, and the fact that she never has to vacuum a rug, like she knows Dís does. The only room she allowed the carpeting to stay was her office and studio, but she can afford to have it dry-cleaned every few months. Sighing, she stores her phone away in her pocket, fills the electric kettle for tea, and quickly loads the wet laundry into the dryer.

After she’s done, she decides to check her messages. It’s no use postponing the inevitable, and she knows that if she takes too long to reply to her family group chat, they will get worried and call her. She unlocks her phone, her password a complicated geometrical pattern, and slides past the last things she was browsing on social media - her nephews’ dog, her sister’s crafts, her brother’s selfies. She smiles at his dumb face, but swallows down her nerves and brings up the chat, which has an alarming 99+ messages icon next to its title.

Her siblings, nephews, and closest cousins are already aware of how disastrous her date was. She knew she shouldn’t have told any of them, even if she was feeling deeply upset about being rejected, but she always ends up sharing, whether she wants to or not. It’s easy to maintain a frank relationship with them, and she always appreciates the way they support her. She blinks and can’t help but grin when she scrolls up and sees how they’ve been planning on how to physically hurt the man she went out with. She swiftly reads until the part where she last participated, this morning, and proceeds to send them messages about how she’s feeling much better, thanking them for the concern.

Much later, after a badly-timed cup of black tea (it is late, after all) and an entire pack of peppermint patties, she gets up. Maybe she should play games. Digital violence always helped take her mind off of these situations. Not there had been many, but certainly enough for her to want not rationalize or think about them.

Right before she drops her weight on the sofa-bed, she hears her phone buzzing from the kitchen counter. From the insistent vibration pattern, she assumes it’s a call. Swallowing, she picks it up and answers it, after seeing the contact picture of her cousin Balin on the screen.

‘Good evening, lassie. Sorry to call now, since it’s so late.’ Balin’s firm but apologetic tone makes her feel less anxious about the call, and she sighs with relief. She knows he won’t pry, or ask her for more details.

‘It’s fine, I wasn’t going to sleep right away, anyway.’ She waits a second, before asking, ‘What is it?’

Used to her curtness, he goes straight to the point. ‘I wanted you to try this service I found a few months ago. I heard of it from a colleague, but never told anyone about it before. I think you’ll find it useful.’

Frowning, she picks up a pen to jot down annotations on the pad she leaves next to the landline. ‘A service, you say? What is it?’ She repeats, half expecting him to be talking about work, recommending some sort of repair shop. The other half of her conscience wonders if he’s talking about therapy.

‘It’s… something unique. I’ve noticed how stressed out you look. I’ve never used it myself, but I’ve read up on what they do, and my colleague told me all about her visits. It’s supposed to be a good learning experience. If you need help to pay for it, after you’ve checked it out, you know you can count on me, right?’ Balin was speaking a bit quickly, the way he did when he had an idea Thorin wouldn’t approve of. She could feel herself frowning from the oddness of this exchange.

Nonetheless, she knew her cousin wouldn’t push her to do something she didn’t want to. He was the one who helped her set up a home studio, so many years ago. And although she paid him back as soon as the freelance jobs became profitable, she always felt like she owed him. ‘Yes. I know. You can tell me their contact information. I’ll call as soon as possible.’

After dropping her dirty dishes inside the dishwasher, Thorin decides to skip playing her violent games due to feeling the start of a headache behind her right eye. On the way to her bedroom, she peels off her soft sweatpants, and falls face-first on her bed, feeling some distaste that it isn't made up as it usually would be. She can still feel her forehead wrinkled up when she drifts off, drowsily cursing the fact that she forgot to remove the clothes from the dryer.

 

* * *

 

Thorin wakes up many hours later, but only because of an urgent need to pee. She stomps to the bathroom, and while sitting on the toilet, she scratches her bleary eyes and feels absolutely stupid. Stupid for having cared so much about _that_ , for having put hopes on something she knew wasn’t meant for her to have. Somehow, that thought didn’t help with the blurriness of her eyes. Feeling raw, she forces herself to follow her own routine. Maybe it would manage to get her mind into gear.

After a quick shower, and then hanging her freshly washed panties up to dry, she feels moderately less slimy and sleepy. She pulls her moist hair up in a bun, puts on clean clothes, and gives herself a look in the mirror. Not feeling like flexing her arms today, she gives herself a tight-lipped smile and proceeds to moisturize her face.

She decides to take a day off, not realizing it’s Sunday anyway, and starts beating eggs to make french toast. Thorin sits at the counter, her kitchen not being big enough for a table, but she enjoys the view across her living room window while eating nonetheless. After the first few distracted bites, her eyes slowly travel to the paper pad with an email address, and keywords to find Balin’s recommendation on the internet. Now that her chest is less heavy with anxiety, she can properly read and let sink in what her hurried handwriting says. She’s immediately worried again, and secretly overwhelmed with curiosity “Pink Azalea Parlor,” and “forum” for her web search, customer at pinkazalea dot com for direct contact with this _service_.

The color and imagery brought by the words make her slightly uncomfortable, as Thorin isn’t really used to associating herself with such delicate concepts. Still, she pictures herself visiting a hobbity soft-looking place to eat cakes and drink chamomile tea, possibly. Or visiting a private gallery, with walls decorated with paintings of plants.

Cringing, she swallows the last sip of coffee from her hand-painted mug, a gift from her eldest nephew. That reminds her of the promise she made earlier this week, to pick Dís and the boys up by car to buy groceries at the Shire street market, since her sister’s husband would be busy helping out his elderly parents. Thorin had been looking forward to eating at the sushi place next to the market, but now she feels more excited about coming back home and discovering more about this mysterious Pink Azalea business.

Thorin spends her entire afternoon carrying heavy plastic bags filled with vegetables to her car trunk, being climbed on by her nephews, and having her hair pulled and braided by her sister.

“You need to have it trimmed and moisturized as soon as possible. I told you that your hair has open cuticles, it needs better care. Come by my house tonight, I’ll do it for you.” She must notice how Thorin is squinting her eyes, and adds quickly, with a naughty smile, “I can make gnocchi, just the way you like it.” Thorin lifts her head out of Dís’s reach, who is clearly itching to go back to working at her hair salon, and huffs impatiently. She won’t be lured by the promise of food, at least not this time.

“I’ll stop by your house next weekend, okay? I don’t have the time for it today.”

Dís looks up at her face, her sharp brown eyes focusing on Thorin’s for a long while, before dancing around the rest of her features. It always makes Thorin feel on edge, but after so many years of living with her little sister, she learned that Dís shows her care through this sort of scrutiny, and a lot of skin contact. That likely explains the absurd number of wet kisses she’s been getting from Kíli today.

“That’s fine! It’ll give me time to pick up this new leave-in product I saw online.” Thorin knows her sister saw right through her white lie, and is greatly relieved for not being called out on it. “Which reminds me: I need to buy some jars of coconut oil! Maybe you should buy one, too. I want to teach you how to massage it onto your scalp, it’s great for the roots of your hair. And it smells like cookies, which is never a bad thing, is it?” Dís continues talking about hair throughout the rest of the outing, and it’s easy for Thorin to listen, nod, and worry about things other than her shaky feelings, which she appreciates.

She drops her family off at their apartment building, prying the guest parking lot card from her nephews’ hands and helping them unload the mountain of fresh produce on the service elevator. After many face grabs from Dís, a tight hip hug from Fíli, and another three wet kisses on her cheeks from Kíli, she’s advised to keep in touch, and climbs back into her car to head home.

The contrast between the past few hours and the inside of her car makes her ears suddenly hear a faint, fuzzy sound. Despite knowing the path to her house like the back of her hand, Thorin places her smartphone with the GPS app open on the plastic stand next to the air conditioner exhausts. She tells herself it’s because she likes the voice that guides her home.

As soon as she pushes the flat door closed with her behind, she drops her own purchases on the kitchen counter, and rushes to the office to do her research. Her mind buzzes with reminders: to put the cabbage in the refrigerator, and not to forget to store the wine next to the sink. But it’s a relief to finally let her brain focus on this subject that has been itching to be resolved, especially after she’s performed the tasks her family depended on her to do.

Thorin is used to going on internet forums, since she’s spent a lot of time looking for customer reviews on keyboards and synthesizers, but it’s odd to look for opinions on a thing when she doesn’t even know what it is.

Instead, she decides that the safest path is to check if this Pink Azalea Parlor has an official website first, then to look elsewhere. Why would she not be satisfied with the information a restaurant or a psychologist has put on their page?

The first result is, not surprisingly, a very official-looking web address. She accesses the page, and is a tad wary of its quaintness. They have a pink logo written in a curly, handwritten font. It’s well-designed, but very flowery. It seems to be a simple one-page site, with their slogan, “Relax And Learn With Us” followed by “contact via email to learn more” written in a faint grey classic-looking font. Besides listing their work hours, there is nothing other than flower watermarks on the bottom of the page, which she assumes are azaleas.

Disappointed about the lack of data, but still oddly curious, Thorin starts to compose an email. She wants to hear it from the owners of the business, and not from impressions of strangers online.

 

> _Good evening,_
> 
> _I would like to know more about your store._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Thorin_

 

She hits send, even though she knows it’s a very blunt message. She feels awkward, a bit frustrated about not having access to more information, and berates herself for not understanding why she’s so excited about this. After a few moments of nervous knee bouncing, she impulsively rolls her leather office chair back from the desk and gets up. Thorin had a delicious salmon roll dinner at the market, but picks up a packet of crisps to snack on after putting the food away in the kitchen.

Right when she’s licking the layer of salt and spice from her fingertips, she hears her cellphone buzzing from the other end of the counter, where she usually leaves it. She forces herself to wash her hands before picking it up - the dish soap would do - wondering if it was Dís. Her sister was prone to continuing conversations after they went their separate ways, wanting to keep on joking about things they saw together during the day.

Sliding the notifications down, Thorin’s surprised to see that it didn’t come from the chat app, but from the email one. She wonders if it’s something from a client, since they seem to collectively think it’s good manners to send new job details on a weekend. But her heart rate picks up after she sees that the new message is from the Pink Azalea Parlor Customer Service.

How could they have replied so quickly? She scratches at her sideburns with one hand, and taps the icon for the email to expand with the other.

 

> _Hello!_
> 
> _Thank you for contacting Pink Azalea Parlor, and for being patient in learning more about our specialized services._
> 
> _This is an automated reply. We advise new applicants to read the entire instructions section included in this message before further contact._

 

Thorin tries scrolling further down to know how much text they’ve added, and her eyes widen gradually when she sees how much of it there is. Her eyebrows rise, too, when she notices that there’s a Terms of Service PDF file attached at the end of it all.

She laughs in derision, but lies down in the sofa-bed to skim over the wall of text anyway.

The light finally shines in her mind when she reads about their professional masseurs. Balin wants her to get a massage! She’s never gotten one, and just thinking about the state of her wrists is reason enough for her to quickly scroll down to find a way of contacting them beyond automated responses. There’s yet another email, (spelled out to avoid bots, Thorin assumes), followed by phone numbers, the address, and working hours. Pushing down a nagging feeling of suspicion regarding the reason for such an encrypted contact method just to apply for massages, she double checks the time, 8:30pm, and makes a call. Usually, she’d choose a written form of communication, but she wants to be sure there is a real person behind all this.

The cute, albeit a bit nasal voice that answers is almost worth the lengthy process until now. ‘Pink Azalea Parlor, how may I help you?’

Thorin falters, thinking of what to ask, exactly. ‘Hi, I… er, I wanted to know how to apply for a session? I’ve just read the rules on the email, and I’m interested.’

‘Oh, really? I mean, of course! What is your name, please? I can fill in your preliminary application document over the phone, if you’d like. Or you can come personally and bring the required personal information for us to fill in the entire thing, too. Your choice.’ The receptionist sniffs, and Thorin wonders if she has a cold. She mentally shakes herself and focuses on answering, instead.

‘My name is Thorin. I live nearby. What documents should I bring? I noticed you close in half an hour, is it okay if I come now?’

‘It is! Please come by, and just give your name when you buzz the intercom, I’ll let you in. Please bring your ID and, if you have it, your health insurance card.’

‘Alright, thank you. See you soon.’

‘See you, Thorin.’ The way the voice says her name makes Thorin’s fingers clench the sides of her cellphone harder than usual. But after hanging up, she is left feeling dreadfully confused at her own snap decision of going there immediately. Leaving the house is usually a carefully-planned affair for her. Therefore she knows this rush of energy won’t last, so she picks up her wallet after checking for the required credentials and packs it in her messenger bag. She looks at herself in the long mirror next to the door, redoes her hair up in a higher ponytail and leaves.

After a mere five-minute trek, she finds the place. Thorin lives one road above the junction between the neighborhoods of Ered Luin and The Shire, and she only has to walk two blocks to reach the parlor. She rings the doorbell, and takes one second to look up beyond the address number. It’s clearly a repurposed house, with no signs of it being a business besides a small wooden plaque with a delicate engraved flower pinned next to the intercom.

The same womanly voice comes from the machine, though it’s a bit harder to hear. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s Thorin,’ she bows down a bit to say. It’s becoming clear that this is a hobbit-owned business.

‘Oh! That was so quick, come on up!’ The ornate gate clicks open after a loud buzz, and she goes up the pale rock steps. The door is slightly open by the time she arrives at the top, so she lightly pushes the handle forward.

She’s greeted by a short ginger woman, who introduces herself immediately. ‘Hi! Thanks for coming. I’m Bilbo. Please follow me to my desk so we can be more comfortable.’

Bilbo closes the door with a soft click and circles around Thorin to guide their way towards a wide, dark wooden desk. The room smells slightly of lavender, but Bilbo leaves a trail of vanilla in her wake. She sits on a wooden chair that matches the one she guides Thorin into, facing her computer screen and Thorin at the same time.

‘Sorry to come so late, I thought…’ Thorin starts, feeling a bit guilty now that she’s sure this service is run by a real person.

‘Don’t you worry about it. I won’t close for another thirty minutes, so you’re fine.’ Thorin watches the freckles on her nose dance while she smiles and twitches her nose, after readjusting her pale legs on the red velvet-cushioned chair. ‘Could you show me your ID? Besides checking if you’re over eighteen, I need to fill in a medical chart.’

Thorin pauses and frowns slightly. ‘Sure, here they are. But I’m not sure why you’d need that kind of information if you’re offering massages.’

After picking up the ID and health insurance cards, Bilbo’s gaze moves from Thorin’s eyes to her mouth, and then quickly back down to look at the screen. ‘It’s all for assurance. We aren’t just a massage parlor, as we stated in the email we sent you. Plus, after the first few days of sessions, we want you to feel secure and release your inhibitions, to have a wholly entertaining and instructive experience with us.’

Thorin swallows. She skimmed through most of the email, and now she’s left wondering what it really said. Maybe she could ask Bilbo in a subtle way, so she wouldn’t be laughed at for her frankly stupid mistake.

‘I’d like to hear more about the purpose of the sessions. What should I expect from my, er, experience?’ Thorin feels a bit silly for using such a fancy word to describe a massage.

Bilbo blinks, and returns to look at Thorin’s eyes, leaning forward on her desk. ‘Well, our proposition is to provide comfort, most of all. But more than that, we differ from other parlors in the sense that we take pride in learning more about our clients through the course of our sessions, and in turn, bring the element of intimacy to the encounters. Most people come to us for company, entertainment, and for learning techniques to use in their personal relationships.’ Thorin is left wondering if this woman is the owner of the business, or just a very passionate employee.

‘Ah.’ Thorin’s mouth is left open, trying to pin down the meaning of that speech. Bilbo licks her lips and smiles at Thorin’s stare. Blinking rapidly, she looks down, and then quickly further down, once she realizes she had parked her line of sight on a plump freckled chest. Humming and dropping the two cards together with a knock, Thorin hears the chair creak as the hobbit leans back, and glances up to see that she’s still smiling to herself.

After that, Bilbo expertly types all her information up, her short nails making a pleasant clicking sound against the white keyboard. Thorin isn’t used to seeing such small and pointy ears, so her eyes keep flicking back to them, after roaming the pleasant but slightly bland paintings on the walls.

‘Done. Your health insurance allows access to your medical examinations, is it fine for us to consult them? You’ll sign a contract for your privacy shortly, obviously.’ She could hear the printer making chewing noises behind Bilbo already.

‘Yes, that’s fine.’ Thorin goes to the doctor every year for a check-up, there isn’t much to be seen besides minor surgery information.

Bilbo reaches for the sheets behind her, and spins back to spread them across the desk for Thorin to read and sign.

‘You should read this carefully at home, and bring it signed next time you come over. I will book you a test appointment, and after that, you can come back for the rest of your course,’ She says, clipping the small stack together with a red paperclip, for Thorin not to lose any of the pages.

‘Yes.’ Thorin pauses, trying to think of her schedule. ‘What about Tuesday?’

‘This Tuesday? We’re free on that day. Can you come at 6pm?’ Bilbo asks, looking glad.

‘That works. I’ll come by then.’

‘Great! We advise our clients to wear comfortable underwear, but since it can get stained with massage oils, maybe not an expensive set.’ Bilbo laughs, then gets up from her chair, handing Thorin’s documents back to her. Thorin follows suit, smoothing down her trousers, and smiling tightly at the joke. ‘What else… we provide flip flops, towels, and toiletries for a required shower before our appointment. We also ask you to eat light meals before the sessions, since bloating could spoil the arousal.’ Bilbo stretches a silky freckled hand for Thorin to shake. ‘Thanks so much, Thorin. I’ll see you in two days. Goodbye!’

Thorin dazedly stops after two steps down the road, stares at her own hand, and wonders what the hell she just agreed to do.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 100% whimsical and just for my own entertainment, so I hope it will please those who enjoyed it! It will become gradually more explicit, so please watch out or look forward to that. ;)  
> English isn't my native language, so please excuse any awkward turns of phrase. They've been most likely corrected by my expert betas, but I know what I'm about. (Making mistakes)
> 
> I wanted to give a tiny shoutout to the authors who've directly inspired me to write this:  
> yubiwamonogatari, who always amazes me with their soft and lovely slow burns;  
> hiddenkitty, who writes the most entertaining and charming interactions;  
> mcmanatea, who describes scenes with amazing detail and skill;  
> northerntrash, whose incredibly deep rendition of an anxious Thorin was obvious the base for mine in this fic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to mcmanatea, ahiddenkitty, and mithrilbikini for all the great beta and suggestions!

Thorin doesn’t know how she made the hike back home, but snaps out of her reverie as soon as she slams the door closed, despite past complaints from her neighbors. She marches to the kitchen area, resolute on leaving everything ready for tomorrow before going to bed. Indeed, she took the forgotten dry laundry from the dryer earlier today. Filling the tea kettle with water from the purifier, her foot won’t stand still.

What did Bilbo mean? She had to shower before getting a massage. Bloating. Arousal…?

Ideas keep turning inside her head while she quickly folds and stores her now fragrant clothes. But it always comes back to just the one answer, and she doesn’t know if she likes it at all.

After a quick rinse in her bathroom sink, she brushes her teeth, braids her hair like usual, and puts on her sleep shirt. Thorin fishes the phone charger cable from behind the white nightstand, plugs it in, and sets her spare alarm clock to 7AM. She quickly makes her bed the way she prefers, and sits underneath the blanket, feeling her heart hammering inside her chest.

She knows it’s late, but the curiosity is too great. Thorin unlocks her phone, and goes straight to the email app she left open before, where the automated reply was displayed. Taking a deep breath, she scrolls all the way up with a quick thumb, and starts reading.

 

* * *

 

 

Although she ended up falling asleep after 3AM, the secondary alarm from her phone wasn’t necessary. She zooms through her morning rituals, not needing a shower today, and sits at her desk for work. While quickly checking her messages - many from Dís’s phone, having likely been snatched by little Kíli to send pictures of a pitch black bedroom - she downs a bowl of milk granola with a mug of black tea.

Thorin sees Balin’s icon on the family chat roster and shakes her head. She won’t talk to him just yet, but he owes her some explanation. It’s still not settled in her brain, what he suggested that she do. Despite wanting to blast through work while she’s feeling so energized, her mind goes back to the same loop it was stuck in before she fell asleep last night. She knows it won’t be the last time she thinks about this, since there was a lot to digest in that email.

The wording is, to a layman, very subtle. But Thorin has at least a bit of experience with legal speech, and knows that whoever wrote the instructions was side-stepping explicit terms. It didn’t help at all with the thundering heartbeat against her throat last night, but she did read the entire thing, including the attached PDF file. Despite finding the entire affair incredibly suspicious, she can’t bring herself to just shove the printed contract from last night in the paper shredder.

Every time her mind loops back to the obvious sexual connotations of the instructions, Thorin remembers Bilbo’s chubby and dextrous fingers tapping quietly against the computer keys, and the small sincere-looking smiles she received from the hobbit last night. It tears her in two, thinking about that soft woman, and what the service she offers seems to be. Now that Thorin stops to think, she didn’t ask about the price. Nor does she know who’d perform whatever it was on her. She scratches her scalp with blunt nails, and looks out the window.

She isn’t against the idea of sex. It’s certainly not something she spares much energy or time thinking about, but, well, the dates she forces herself to go on do have an end goal for her. While chatting with more extroverted friends, she is assured that masturbating is fine, that she should buy toys, have more fun with herself. Still, she rarely finds the impetus to do it. Thinking about laying with fictional men has lost its thrill after the twenty-plus years she’s been doing it. And every time she tries to venture a visit to an adult video website, she feels immediately put off by the entire theatrics of it. It’s all incredibly impersonal, distasteful, violent.

Her mind unhelpfully presents Bilbo’s voice, happily talking about learning and intimacy. Thorin doesn’t believe such a place could provide those things. She knows from books, movies, friends that only a steady relationship with one person or more can bring that level of connection.

Nevertheless, she remembers that the first session is free. The contract clearly states that each session would be paid for separately, and if the client should decide not to continue, that there would be no legal or financial consequences. And, in the Terms of Service file there were many repetitions of ‘consent’ and ‘to the client’s preference,’ so she was allowed to deny any sort of unwanted contact.

Nodding to herself, and concluding that it was a good thing to take the time to deal with this before diving into work, she grabs a ball pen from the drawer and signs the contract. She picks up an envelope from the drawer to put the bundle of papers inside, too. Thorin knows it’s unlikely, but she’d rather not have to explain such a thing to her family, if they came for a surprise visit.

Letting out a big sigh of relief, she finally opens the audio software, and starts composing for work.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Tuesday, she postpones taking a shower until she’s done with her self-imposed shift. It’s not a hot day, and although she has decided not to get ahead of herself, she wants to at least get a good trim and shave before her appointment. Thorin washes her hair with the mint-scented products Dís bought her, applies deodorant, and reckons she’s prepared to do this.

That is, until she opens her underwear drawer, and pictures herself being half naked in front of a stranger. Shaking her head, she tries to reason with her cruel mind, thinking about how these people are professionals. They’ve probably served many dwarven women before her. In fact, she doesn’t even know how different hobbits are. Ones she’s seen on the television don’t count, everyone is elf-fied and falsely smooth. Thorin fails to remember anything helpful from her school swimming lessons, where she last saw all her friends in bathing suits. All she remembers is pinching her own suit down to cover her hairy thighs, and later, being scolded for participating in a pool fight (in which Dwalin had gained a bloody lip, but made sure their team won).

Slipping on an old black pair of shorts, and an even older matching sports bra, she tries to empty her mind and focus on getting a massage. Of course that doesn’t work, but at least she checks her reflection in the mirror and approves of it. The hem of the panties ends a bit higher than they did a while ago, leaving a small sliver of her naked bottom in sight, which looks quite fun in her opinion. The bra also hugs her wide chest well; it’s not too tight, and has thin straps, which she assumes will make the process easier for her mysterious masseur. The image of Bilbo’s soft hands pressing down on her own olive skin flashes in her mind, and she swallows. Thorin’s incredibly nervous, but she’s ready.

The day’s gotten much colder, she observes while closing the living room windows, so she puts her trusty black leather jacket on. It looks decent, solid, she thinks. Thorin picks the envelope up, and packs it in her bag, along her wallet, cellphone, and keys.

Once there, she rings the doorbell, and steps back for a second to look at the entire edifice. Since it’s a bit earlier than when she came two days ago, she notices that there is a floor above the reception, and she sees at least two security cameras attached to the walls in the entrance. Thorin knows it’s common for houses in the city to be equipped with such safety measures, but it’s not the case in the area she lives in.

A digitized clicking sound makes her jump, and she hears Bilbo’s voice come from the intercom. ‘Hello?’

‘Hi, it’s Thorin. I came for my appointment.’

‘Ah! Sure, sure, come in!’ The gate buzzes, and Thorin walks stiffly up the stairs.

Bilbo welcomes her in, smiling, and lightly touching her arm to pull Thorin inside. ‘I’m glad you came. You’re a little early, but we’re ready to receive you. Follow me, I’ll show you around.’ She reaches past Thorin to close the entrance door, and looks up for confirmation, before walking ahead.

Thorin nods, but stops in her tracks, remembering to give Bilbo the contract. ‘I signed it,’ she says, when the hobbit turns her head around. ‘Here.’

‘Oh, thank you! I was going to ask you for it when we reached the room, but this is much easier.’ Bilbo passes hurriedly around Thorin, fishes the sheets from the envelope, unlocks a filing cabinet, and slips them in vertically, after checking for the signature.

‘Alright, come on up. The first floor is where we have the staff bathrooms, security room, and access to the maintenance rooms in the basement. We do our own washing, and make sure that the clients are provided with fresh linens for their experience.’ She tightens her lips, making a serious face. ‘The walls upstairs are soundproof, but since we’re a bit short-staffed, we don’t take in more than one customer at a time, so don’t worry about privacy.’

‘I see.’ Thorin looks down at her feet while climbing the second set of stairs today, so she wouldn’t catch sight of anything beneath Bilbo’s brown velvet miniskirt. ‘I still don’t know who will be my masseur.’

They reach the top of the stairs, and Bilbo looks over her shoulder to speak. ‘That’s me. We have other employees in at the moment, and they’ll answer the door or take phone calls, but I usually take the night shifts.’

Thorin feels both exhilarated and nervous to hear it. Her mind had been split between imagining some sort of wild sexual experience with this beautiful hobbit, and getting her back prodded by an old male masseur with gnarled fingers. For generally considering herself heterosexual, she doesn’t know what to make of these expectations. ‘Alright.’

Stopping right before opening the first door to their left, Bilbo half-turns her body to look at Thorin, and adds, with a crease between her eyebrows and a tight smile. ‘That said, you can of course choose to come earlier to see the other masseuse. But after this first preview session, it’s best to stick to one person, you see.’

‘I want it to be you.’ Thorin blurts out. It surprises her, since her mind was still processing the idea of keeping her options open.

‘...Ah!’ Bilbo gives her a quick sheepish smile that doesn’t really leave her face while she’s talking. ‘Still, you can change your mind, after this first try.’ She finally opens the door, and turns the lights on.

‘This is the room we’ll be using tonight. We’ll have a chance to see the other rooms in the future, if you decide to come back, so there’s no rush to see them all at once.’ It’s a very peculiar room, Thorin thinks, having seen few pictures of massage rooms before. The furniture is mostly wood, the same shade as the reception desk, and it looks very sturdy and classic. The light yellow walls and soft orange lights make it feel like a bedroom, but Thorin’s eyes travel to the odd ceiling handles and mysteriously-shaped chairs, and concludes that it’s an unique place.

Bilbo walks forward and opens the door to an adjacent room. ‘This is the door to the bathroom. There’s one for each massage room, so you don’t have to worry about sharing.’ Thorin joins her, and sees a narrow, but very fancy and clean-looking bathroom. ‘The first session is an upper body massage, so I’m guessing you won’t want to shower. But you can freshen up here. And please remove at least your shirt and jacket before coming back out. There’s hooks behind the door, and you’ll find disposable slippers in the sundries bag on the sink.’

Thorin licks her lips, and squeezes past Bilbo to enter the white bathroom. Her heart is beating rapidly, but she doesn’t feel cornered, or uncomfortable. So she removes and hangs her clothes up on one hook, her bag on another, and sets her boots next to the toilet. She leaves her socks on, but still opens the plastic bag with the slippers and wears them. Reaching into an outer pocket in her mailman bag, she grabs a hair elastic, and ties her now dry hair into a sloppy side braid, since she knows that it’ll get in Bilbo’s way. After a last check in the mirror, she comes out, wearing her jeans and sports bra.

Not sure where she’s supposed to sit, or lie down, she waits until Bilbo tells her. ‘Here, sit on this chair. It’s much more relaxing to lie flat, but I find it better to sit first, and then move to the bed. It makes you feel less exposed.’

Feeling thankful, Thorin crosses the warm-toned room to sit on the low and frankly weird chair. It looks a bit like a gym machine, the way the backrest is inclined to an angle, and seems to have knobs on the sides to control just that. But it’s quite narrow, and it has a hollow-centered oval cushion on the inclined end, and an even weirder-looking seat. The cushions are covered with some sort of disposable fabric, which she assumes are meant for hygienic purposes.

‘Don’t worry too much about the shape of this thing. I assure you it’s safe.’ Bilbo smiles and winks at her, while putting a crisp white apron on. ‘Please sit facing the door, I’ll adjust the back so you’re upright.’

Thorin obeys, and reaches back to put her braid in front of her chest, in case it got caught somewhere. She feels the slightly cool backrest against her skin, and waits until Bilbo has touched her shoulder to lean back and relax.

The soft hand on her shoulder doesn’t go away, and she looks up to see Bilbo looking at her, waiting to make eye contact. ‘Are you allergic to anything? We mostly use almond or lavender oil, but we have some synthetic lubricants available.’

Clearing her throat, she shakes her head, ‘No.’

‘Okay, good. Now, try to make yourself comfortable, relax your back. I’ll start with your hands.’ Bilbo picks up a dark bottle dispenser, and places it on top of the chest of drawers next to the chair. She blindly reaches behind herself to drag forward a small seat with wheels, and sits in front of Thorin. She quickly picks up a clean white towel from a drawer, and places it on Thorin’s lap. ‘Do you feel any muscle pain?’ she asks, while pumping some oil on her plump hand, and rubbing them both together.

‘Sometimes. I work with the computer, so I wake up with my shoulders feeling a bit sore.’ Bilbo rolls close, her pantyhose-clad knees touching Thorin’s. She lets Bilbo lift her arms, and spread the oil on Thorin’s hand and arm in quick but careful motions.

‘Ah, I see. What do you do, if I may ask?’ Bilbo’s small and impossibly warm fingers knead the muscles around her elbows, and move gradually down until they reach her wrist.

‘I’m a composer.’ Thorin watches Bilbo’s hand and appreciates the color contrast between them.

Bilbo pauses for a second, making Thorin look up to see what’s wrong. ‘Wow! That’s fascinating. Do you play instruments, too, then?’ She’s smiling, and looking at Thorin’s face, seeming very interested.

‘I do. I play the keyboard, mostly. But I can play string instruments, too.’ Thorin looks down to speak, but again, she blinks and looks elsewhere. Bilbo’s freckled cleavage is framed with a red top, today.

‘My, that’s so interesting. I bet you make great music, your arm is really strong.’ Bilbo is holding the wrist with one hand, and slipping her slick fingers between Thorin’s, and squeezing slightly. It makes Thorin’s breath falter for a second. The massage feels great.

‘I hope so. I work hard at it,’ Thorin says, simply. She had to learn how to take compliments, but doesn’t know if Bilbo is just patronizing her, or what.

Bilbo picks up her other arm, leaving the first with the hand turned down on top of her own knee. She smiles, and moves along. ‘Do you work from home?’

‘Yes. Freelance.’ The inside of her left elbow tickles when Bilbo slides her thumbs on the sensitive skin, and she squirms a bit.

‘Sorry, are you ticklish? I’ll be more firm here, next time.’ Bilbo opens her legs to get up after she’s done with the left side, and leaves the towel on Thorin’s lap, so the oil from her arms won’t stain her trousers.

She instructs Thorin to stand up, so she can massage her back. ‘Here, you can keep the towel on top of your legs, but straddle the seat, and rest your chest on the backrest. Let’s see…’ Bilbo lightly cups Thorin’s stubbly chin to check if the padded oval structure would align with her face. ‘Yes, now please lean forward and rest your jaw here. We change the fabric protections with every session, so don’t worry.’

Thorin’s field of vision is narrowed by the apparatus, but she notices that Bilbo’s removed her shoes at some point during the night, and can see the faint outline of her small toes through the white pantyhose.

‘May I touch your hair? I don’t want to startle you,’ Thorin hears Bilbo say.

‘Uh, yes. Go ahead.’ She feels Bilbo carefully move the heavy braid, and is a bit surprised when she ties it with what feels like a plastic clamp against Thorin’s head.

‘I don’t want to get it oily. It smells so clean and minty!’ She hears Bilbo sniff after that, and doesn’t know how to reply. Thorin tenses up, thinking of something to talk about, but Bilbo’s slightly nasal voice fills the room again, making her relax again. ‘So, you were telling me you work from home. How do you like it?’

Thorin has to think before answering, ‘I prefer it. I’ve worked in other places before, but I focus better when I’m home, and alone.’ She stops for a second, and Bilbo seems to have waited for this pause before slathering her shoulders with oil. If the arm massage felt satisfying, this is heaven. Thorin lets out a quiet breath and allows her body to relax against the odd chair even further.

‘Is this too hard? Your shoulders are quite tense, I don’t want to hurt you,’ Bilbo asks, after having adjusted herself behind Thorin’s back and putting her weight into the motions.

‘No, this is great.’

‘Okay.’ She must’ve asked about Thorin’s field of work for a reason, since the hobbit keeps finding hidden sore spots on her shoulders, ones that Thorin herself didn’t know about. It actually does ache a little, but right after the bloom of pain dissolves, the muscles seem to loosen up and sigh with pleasure. Bilbo’s warm hands slowly encircle Thorin’s neck, and her thumbs dig right below the hairline, and Thorin can’t bite back the hum of contentment quickly enough.

Bilbo lets out a chuckle through her nose, and asks, ‘Does it feel good? Have you ever gotten a massage before?’

It takes a while for her to remember how to speak, ‘Hmm, never. Unless the back punches from my younger sister count.’

The chuckle becomes laughter, and Bilbo moves to the right of the chair to focus on her upper arm. ‘No, I suppose it doesn’t count. Do you have any other siblings?’

‘Yeah. A brother.’ Thorin’s eyes have closed from the bliss of having her shoulders kneaded with two deft hands. What’s the name of those muscles, again? She tries to remember college anatomy classes, and can only recall the trapezius muscle. It doesn’t matter, really.

‘Oh, a full house! I’m an only child, so I’ve always envied people with siblings. But every time I tell them, they say they wish they were only children!’ Bilbo scoffs, and carefully pulls Thorin’s arm so she can rotate the bones, and Thorin feels it popping lightly underneath the hobbit’s left hand. Thorin tries to keep her hand from flailing, but it ends up accidentally brushing against very cushiony bits on Bilbo’s body.

‘Sorry.’ Thorin readjusts herself in the chair, and adds,’I love my family, but they were a handful. I guess they still are.’

‘Pfft, I take it you’re the eldest, then? No wonder your shoulders are so stiff,’ Bilbo jokes, and moves to the other side, after placing Thorin’s right arm back down. ‘I forgot to ask, which pronouns do you use?’

‘Oh. “She” works fine for me,’ Thorin grunts.

‘Alright. Same here!’ Bilbo dutifully rubs the left side muscles, and Thorin feels herself getting drowsy. There is no background music, so she hears Bilbo’s breathing, and the slick sounds of the oil against their skin.

After sliding two hands tightly down Thorin’s left arm, Bilbo glides them back up through the inner side, so her fingertips dig on the armpit skin. Thorin jumps slightly, assuming it’s from being ticklish again. A pause, then the hands come back even wetter, and firmly press against the muscles under Thorin’s arm.

The drowsy feeling has passed. Thorin tries to rationalize that it’s because Bilbo’s hands are so close to her breasts, but even when they do travel forward to knead on her fuzzy upper chest, she doesn’t jump again. It makes little sense, since she expected her front to feel more sensitive than her underarm.

Reproaching herself, she feels excited when Bilbo moves to the right side and repeats the same motion. The jump doesn’t happen, but she feels as if an electric current travels straight to her crotch when Bilbo’s fingers cup her skin. This time, it keeps buzzing, since Bilbo’s hands seemingly accidentally slip a bit lower on her breast, underneath her sports bra. But as quickly as it happens, it stops, and the hand is gone.

Bilbo rests one hand on her wide back, and Thorin can hear wheels sliding quietly against the carpet, and the warm hands start kneading either side of her spine. It’s both a relief and a slight letdown, but she allows herself to relax again.

‘Sitting for too long can make your lower back hurt a lot. Do you ever feel pain here?’ Bilbo pets a patch of skin right above the hem of her trousers.

Thorin clears her throat, ‘Yes. After I spend the day sitting or standing up for too long.’

‘I see. Then, could you perhaps lower your jeans for me? You can take them off completely, too, I just don’t want the oil to stain anything.’

‘Um, sure.’ Thorin dislodges her face from the oval structure, and quickly pushes her trousers down, just below her bottom. She sits back down, and rearranges the towel on her lap.

‘Perfect! Thank you.’ Bilbo’s hands hold Thorin’s waist for a second, before leaving to pick up and slather more oil on her. ‘That reminds me: the next time you come, you should bring a spare change of underwear. Otherwise it’ll stain your clothes, once you put them back on.’

‘Ah, right. Speaking of which, I don’t know anything about prices yet. The email said I should ask for them in person.’ Thorin places her face back on the head rest after speaking. Bilbo’s thumbs press hard and long on certain points against her naked hip, and she can feel the tension seeping from her muscles.

‘I’ll give you a detailed price sheet once we’re done here. I should’ve told you all about it before we started, but I guess I was really eager for our first session.’ Bilbo sniffs again, and Thorin smiles.

‘It’s fine.’ She thinks that the feeling of eagerness is mutual. But it doesn’t leave her lips.

Bilbo’s hands circle rhythmically around the expanse of her back, wedging themselves roughly underneath the elastic band of her bra, then back down. After a few passes, the hands move on up, to treat her shoulders the same way as her lower back. It seems that Bilbo stood up behind Thorin again, the skin on her back is nearly pulsating with sensitivity, and she can feel the small current of warm air between their bodies shift with the motion.

Thorin has no idea how long the massage has been going on for.

‘Thorin, could you lean back again? This time, drop your weight against my body, I want to massage your face.’ Bilbo’s hands are still laid on Thorin’s shoulders, and it’s easy for the dwarf to be guided backwards. She’s standing closer than Thorin expected, so the back of her head bounces slightly against Bilbo’s chest, making her look up to check that she didn’t cause pain.

Instead, Bilbo sees that as a sign to start the facial massage, and rubs her smooth hands against Thorin’s temples.

‘Please keep your eyes closed for this part, I don’t want to poke them accidentally.’ Bilbo’s voice sounds bright, and much louder, now that Thorin’s head is propped against her breasts. She hums, and obeys, allowing Bilbo’s breathing movements to make her lightheaded when she closes her eyes.

The hands are less oily now, so the kneading is much more precise and light. Still, Thorin feels her jaw unclenching, and her mouth opening a little. Her brow is pressed, her cheeks are squeezed (a much less painful feeling than when Dís does it,) and her throat is carefully held and prodded. She can hear Bilbo’s occasional sniffles, and again wonders if she has a cold, or if it’s allergies.

After a hum, Bilbo’s hands travel back to Thorin’s shoulders. ‘There! I think we’re done for the day.’

Feeling disoriented, Thorin lets herself be pushed forward slowly, and blinks, trying to make her body cooperate. It feels like she jumped from a cloud and landed heavily on the ground.

‘Oh, right.’ Everything slowly comes back to her mind, but still, distantly, she feels Bilbo using the towel on Thorin’s lap to clean their arms of the oil.

‘Here, the oil on your back’s been mostly absorbed by your skin, so you can put on clothes, when you’re ready.’ Bilbo steps back, but helps Thorin stand up. Dragging her jeans back up, she stumbles back from the massage chair, and looks at Bilbo, who’s smiling at her.

‘I’ll wait for you outside,’ she says, and leaves the warm-toned room. Thorin’s mind is mostly alert now, but there’s also a muted, peaceful feeling.

Her eyes water a bit while she’s changing; the white fluorescent lights in the bathroom are quite bright, but she does it quickly, and leaves the plastic hair clamp on the sink, after restyling her braid into a loose bun.

Bilbo guides Thorin downstairs after she’s done, and simply gives her a print of a detailed chart of prices. On the back of the paper there’s a time table, where she highlights her shifts with an orange pen.

‘We take all credit cards, but if you’d like, we can issue a bill to be mailed to your address, instead. The minimum length of the course is seven days, but of course you can keep coming for as long as you wish, if it pleases you.’ Bilbo hooks a lock of curly auburn hair behind her pointy ear. ‘So, there’s no pressure, but if you decide to continue, we’ll settle the payment before the next session.’

Thorin’s aware she’s taking too long to answer, but her mouth just won’t conform, and she wonders if this is a normal reaction to a massage. ‘Yeah, um. Good. Thank you for the, er. The service.’

Looking back and forth between Thorin’s eyes, Bilbo’s smile falters, and she looks worried. ‘Do you feel faint? Would you like me to call a cab to take you home?’

‘Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’m leaving now. Again, thank you very much.’ Thorin forces her mind to speed up, so she can appear normal, and go home. She looks up at Bilbo’s face, not sure when or if she’ll ever see this hobbit again, and opens the door to leave. ‘Goodbye.’

‘Okay. See you, Thorin.’ Bilbo’s voice sounds subdued, but once Thorin reaches the front gate and steals one last glance up, she sees a grin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please notice the tags ♥ This chapter Goes Places, lol

Thorin wakes up with a start, her phone buzzing, and she nearly falls off the sofa bed, trying to find it to slap it silent. Her hands are clutching a sheet of paper, and she squints in the soft twilight to see what’s on it. It makes her heart stop for a second, remembering what happened then, two days ago.

Groaning, she sits up, her feet feeling frozen from sleeping without blankets. The phone screen displays half past five, and she wonders what woke her up. She grabs it, and finds a private message from Frerin, who probably still hasn’t gone to bed for the night. They were chatting when she fell asleep in the living room, still wearing her jeans.

> Frerin: Then, Balin asked me to come over to work at the factory for a few days, since I said I was broke, but I’m gonna wait for a call from that photographer dude I told you about last week. I don’t wanna wake up early to work lmao... Anyway, sis, why don’t you come over? We could smoke and chat for a bit. 

Thorin sighs, and thinks about her schedule. Her eyes naturally travel to the Pink Azalea Parlor time table, lying next to her on the sofa, marked with bright orange highlighter pen. Friday night is one of Bilbo’s shifts. But she forces herself to look elsewhere.

> Thorin: I have to hand in a few tracks before Monday, so I can’t go during the weekend. I’ll get back to you. I’m going to stop by at the factory today to have lunch with Balin, so I’ll tell him you’re not coming. 

> Frerin: No, I’ll tell him myself. I wanna thank him, and all. I’m gonna crash now, so ttyl ~

She checks the other notifications, and sees nothing to distract her mind. Dropping the phone on the sofa, she covers her face with both hands, resting her elbows on her knees.

It’s been two days since she’s been to the parlor. Thorin tries her best to forget about it, to just throw the bloody sheet in the bin, but her stomach clenches every time she thinks about never going back. She exchanged voice messages with Balin, asking to stop for lunch and chat, so she can look at his face while asking… whatever it is she wants to ask.

Thorin isn’t sure what she wants to talk about, exactly. It was such a private experience, and she’s been avoiding looking up the forum posts that Balin recommended that she search online. It’s both embarrassing to discuss it with family, and agonizing to even imagine reading reviews about the place. What could be written? Detailed statements of sexual encounters? Literal descriptions of the masseuse’s bodies? Thorin feels bile rise up to her throat, from anger, and partly from jealousy.

It’s utterly ridiculous for her to feel this way about Bilbo. It’s her profession. Everyone chooses something to bring food to the table, and she’s not one to judge. Thorin remembers how her father yelled at her when she quit the factory, before he passed away. How he hammered her ears that music wouldn’t sustain her, and that he only fought with her because he wanted her to be safe and work somewhere reliable.

Swallowing her feelings of guilt, she shakes her head, and gets up to start her day. It’s dreadfully early, but that’s fine, since she has to leave for lunch later. She showers, eats, and works, but her mind is heavy with doubt and dread. While Thorin would prefer not to leave the house on such a bad day, she feels like it’ll be worth the anguish. Speaking with Balin always brings her guidance and comfort, and she could do with a good meal today, too.

Thorin parks her car in her old spot, which Balin still keeps vacant for when she comes, since it’s protected from the sun by the shadow of an old oak tree that her grandmother planted. Taking a deep breath, she leaves the car, and goes to meet her cousin by the back door.

He’s already there, waiting for her, his white fluffy hair shining in the daylight.

‘Thorin!’ He opens his arms wide for a hug after she’s crossed the distance of the back lot. Balin holds her arms, and takes one step back to get a good look at her face.

‘You’re looking too pale. Let’s go eat straight away, we can talk once we’re sitting.’

Thorin smiles tightly, and nods. They set off at a brisk pace to the restaurant just around the corner.

‘Did Frerin thank you for the job offer?’ she asks, knowing how bad-mannered and forgetful her brother can be.

‘Oh, aye! He left me a long message, going on about how this modeling job thing will pay him well.’ Balin chuckles, but Thorin knows it’s with good intentions. Frerin is a handsome dwarf, and has been in many magazine advertisements. They all joke about his laid-back manner, but they’re hopeful for his career.

Her cousin waves a hand to the big ginger cook, an old family friend. This restaurant brings Thorin memories of her days working with them, and it makes her feel both nostalgic and anxious. They fill plates with food from the buffet, and sit down at a more isolated table, in a distant corner away from the hubbub of the hungry dwarves on their lunch break.

‘I went there. To the parlor,’ Thorin says immediately, looking straight at Balin’s eyes, waiting for his reaction.

‘You did? I thought you’d be looking a bit more relaxed, after a visit!’ He laughs, but stops immediately after seeing Thorin’s face.

‘That’s not funny. I still can’t believe you recommended me to a sex worker,’ she hisses, and feels her face burning from anger and shame.

Clearing his throat, Balin sets aside his fork, and leans forward, smoothing his beard down so it won’t touch the food. ‘Did you actually read up on the information they showed you? I didn’t just send you to any place, willy-nilly.’

Thorin swallows, and looks down at her plate. ‘Yes, of course I did. But it’s pretty clear that it would end with sex, from what I gathered.’

‘Well, what’s wrong with that?’ Balin takes a sip of his juice, and smacks his lips. ‘I don’t want to embarrass you, or anything. I just think you’ll benefit from going there, is all.’

‘There’s nothing wrong, I just… I’m confused. I don’t see how this sort of thing will help. I’m worried about others finding out. You know how I’ve never been in a relationship.’ Thorin picks at her nails below the table.

‘I do know, lass. You shouldn’t worry about that. If you don’t want anyone to know about this, we’ll keep it a secret. My lips are sealed.’

She frowns. This whole thing is frustrating, it makes her angry at herself, and at the world. Thorin wishes she wasn’t so undesirable, that she could just start a relationship, and be happy. Like everyone else.

After a few moments of silence, Balin’s pale hand comes into her peripheral view. He’s motioning for her to put her own hand on top of it. She does, and he grips it tightly, as he always does, his calluses scratching at her skin.

‘Please trust me. I know the good things it’s done for that friend of mine, and I looked it up in detail before recommending. I just want what’s best for you.’ Thorin’s eyes sting, but she blinks rapidly to clear them, and looks up at his wrinkled face. ‘Now, eat up. You’ll feel better.’

Standing next to her car, Thorin carries a plastic bag containing a slice of chocolate cake (Balin’s treat). Before she can open the door, he holds her by the arms again, and looks up, a deep crease forming between his bushy eyebrows.

‘Listen, I know this is a lot to consider. I’m very sorry if it offended you,’ he says, his voice much quieter and graver than usual. Thorin brings her hand up to cup his elbow, and takes a deep breath before replying.

‘It didn’t. Not really,’ she adds, after seeing his expression of suspicion. ‘I’m aware the entire family is worried about my loneliness. I really appreciate it. And I’ll consider going back to the parlor.’

Balin squeezes her thick bicep, and smiles. ‘It’s no trouble if you don’t ever go back. But I’m glad you’re thinking about it. Now, I’ll let you go home. Call me if you need anything.’

 

* * *

 

Music blasts from the speakers under her work desk while she eats her slice of cake and thinks, looking past the squiggles being formed by the equalizer. Licking the cocoa cream from her fork, her mind goes back to the same question, the same answers.

Perhaps it’s time to let her senses answer it for her. It’s the technique she uses when she’s stuck at work. Sighing, she remembers Bilbo’s sniffles, and the way she tucked her curly hair behind her pink ear. Would she be allowed to touch, too? Would Bilbo want her to? Thorin squeezes her eyes shut, only to see the hobbit’s smiling face behind her eyelids. Curses. She really wants to go back. But not just for sex, although that was a very alluring prospect.

Once she got home on Tuesday, the first thing she did was to take an awfully cold shower. The groggy walk back to her flat was made hellish by how wet her underwear was. It’s clearly something she’s keen on doing, even with a woman, given the evidence.

Somehow being with a woman has never crossed her mind, even though she knew that was a perfectly fine option. For example, her best friend Dwalin had moved away from Ered Luin to be with her girlfriend. Thinking about it now, she supposes she just never fell in love with a woman, so that’s why it was never considered a possibility.

Glancing at the clock, she wonders if Bilbo would be free tonight. Maybe she should call first.

Thorin pushes herself up, and goes to the living room to call from the landline. After a few nervous breaths, she dials the number, and presses the green button on the receiver.

‘Yes, hello?’ a strange voice says. Not Bilbo. Thorin fiercely fights against the gut reaction of slamming the phone back in its dock.

Clearing her throat, Thorin quickly formulates a question. ‘Hello. Is Bilbo free for an appointment tonight?’ Perfect. Not too incriminating, or needy. Just casually interested.

‘Let me check.’ After a few quiet clicking sounds, they answer, ‘Yes! She’s free from six to eight p.m.’

‘I see. Thank you.’ Thorin says, but doesn’t know if she should add that she’s really coming later, or not.

‘No problem. Goodbye.’ The call ends, and Thorin can breathe again.

She decides that it’s worth a shot. If she doesn’t feel comfortable with the sexual parts, the contract stated that she can just ask for the masseuse to stop. Thorin’s heart is pounding, but she takes a quick shower, washes her hair (again with the mint-scented conditioner) and shaves for the occasion.

While staring at her underwear drawer, she decides that today she can wear a looser bra. The one she wore for the first massage was still in her laundry hamper, since it did get speckled with oil. The panties she wore were washed in that cold shower two days ago, so they were already dry, but she wonders if Bilbo wouldn’t think that she was wearing dirty underwear, and chooses another pair. She finds one that matches the bra, but it’s much more revealing than the other one. ‘Oh well,’ Thorin thinks, albeit feeling very conscious of the reflection of her nearly naked hips in the mirror. If she’s going to get a sensual massage, she should start getting used to the fact that she would have to be naked in front of another person.

Excited, but a bit dizzy from nerves, she dresses herself with recently-laundered clothes. It’s going along well, she thinks. Thorin reapplies her deodorant for the third time, picks up her bag, checks if the spare change of underwear is inside, and leaves. She’s thankful that it isn’t hot outside, otherwise she’d arrive drenched in sweat.

The stranger greets her through the intercom, and she goes up. It feels odd doing this without Bilbo. Once inside, though, Thorin shakes hands with this new person, and sees Bilbo right behind them.

‘Hi, Thorin. I’m glad you came,’ Bilbo says, grinning, and goes to shake hand, too. ‘Come in, Bluebell will sort out the payment.’

Sitting again in the wood chair, Thorin rummages through her bag for her card, and looks back to see that Bilbo has left momentarily. ‘Here. Will you charge my card for the number of appointments I have?’

The dark-haired hobbit looks up from the computer screen and nods, ‘Yes. We can mail you the bill, too, if you want more security.’

‘I would like that.’ Thorin fiddles with the zippers on her bag.

After checking the address and entering the card password, Thorin thanks Bluebell and stands up. Bilbo calls for her from the foot of the stairs, and she follows.

Tonight, her long feet are clad in a beige, soft-looking pair of shoes, and she’s not wearing pantyhose, Thorin notices while going up the steps behind her. ‘We’ll be using the same room again.’

She’s led to the white bathroom. ‘This time, the massage will be all over your body, so please remove your trousers, too. And there’s a clean bath robe on the hook behind the door for you to wear,’ Bilbo explains, and steps back for Thorin to undress privately.

Her hair is already up in a ponytail, so she just checks herself in the mirror once she’s down to her underwear, and takes a moment to breathe. People do this all the time. She wants to, too. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

Once she comes out of the bathroom, with the robe tightly wrapped around her waist, Bilbo is leaning back on the chest of drawers, waiting for her. ‘Is it okay for us to use the bed? I wanted you to relax completely tonight,’ she says while tying a white apron around her body. The way it covers her green mini dress makes her look like she isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Thorin blinks, and hums in response, ‘Hm, yes. I’d like to start sitting up like last time, though, I think.’

‘Of course! I was also thinking that. Come, sit.’ Bilbo pats the crisp white sheets on top of the short bed. ‘We can start with your hands again, since you seem to use them so much for work.’

Since she isn’t asked to remove the robe just yet, she just moves to sit. The bed is much lower than she’s used to, most likely for a hobbit’s ease of reach. Bilbo drags over a low table on wheels, and Thorin sees a dark bottle of oil, and a bundle of dry, clean rags. There are tiny drawers on the other side of it. Bilbo sits in a stool in front of her.

‘Your hair looks lovely like this, Thorin,’ Bilbo says, while taking Thorin’s hand to start oiling it.

‘Oh, er. Thank you.’ Thorin feels her ears becoming red. With the silence between them, she can hear that there’s music on tonight, a very soothing instrumental melody.

While kneading Thorin’s arms, she can feel that Bilbo is resting her bare feet against her own. ‘I hope you don’t mind the music. I find that it’s a great way to take your mind off things while you get massaged, if you’re feeling nervous.’

‘I don’t mind.’

Bilbo smiles, and her smooth hands sneak up the sleeves of Thorin’s cotton robe. It’s thrilling to watch, though it might be silly to think so, it also feels a little naughty. As if Bilbo is sneaking a touch of her arms. However, Thorin’s breathing quickens when the freckled hands slide down to hers, and she looks up, not knowing if this is a part of the session.

‘Before we start, though, I’d like to make sure you know that it’s very important to speak up when you don’t like something I do.’ Bilbo is looking at Thorin’s eyes, her face serious. ‘I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, or to think I’m taking advantage of you.’

‘I know. Thank you.’ Thorin’s hands are squeezed for the second time today, and she smiles at the contrast of feeling. Bilbo looks fragile, but her grip is surprisingly strong.

‘Good. Please take your robe off, and lie on the bed, then, facing down. Whenever you’re ready.’ She rolls the little bench backwards, and leaves to pick up a clean towel from the chest.

Thorin quickly disrobes and lies down, trying to focus on the music, but only manages to fiddle with the bumpy cushion in front of her while waiting for Bilbo. She keeps looking around nervously while propped up on her elbows, thinking about how exposed her asscheeks are.

‘Here, this cushion has a hole for your face, as does the mattress,’ Bilbo says, touching Thorin’s shoulder with an oiled hand. ‘Lie down completely, with your arms stretched next to your body. I’ll do your back, now,’ she says quietly. Thorin lifts the ponytail upwards, away from her skin, and rests her head flat.

The face hole isn’t completely dark, and Thorin can see the swirly patterns on the carpet down below. Still, once Bilbo starts pressing on her shoulder muscles, Thorin closes her eyes, and sighs deeply. Bilbo is right, receiving a massage while lying down really is more relaxing.

It goes at a similar pace as the first time. She was looking forward to when Bilbo digs her expert thumbs into the base of her neck, and she isn’t disappointed when it happens. Thorin wonders if it’s some sort of common physical reaction, but she can’t hold back a moan when it happens, again.

Chuckling, Bilbo asks, ‘Is this your favorite spot? I can do it again, if you want.’

‘Hmm, I’d like that,’ Thorin says, her voice muffled.

Bilbo takes some time kneading her neck, and Thorin feels light-headed and blissful after it’s over.

‘Your voice is so beautiful, Thorin. You told me you compose music, but do you also sing?’ Thorin is sure her ears must be visibly red by now. Maybe she moaned too loud while her neck was being massaged.

‘I don’t, no,’ she says, and sounds a bit too dry, after a second. Thorin’s been told she’s rude before, so she adds, ‘I did the backing vocals when I had a band in college, though.’

Bilbo gasps, ‘No way! You were in a band? Gosh, that’s so fun.’ Her hands are drawing circles around the sides of Thorin’s spine.

‘Yes. I mainly played instruments, but sometimes we needed to fill in other positions, since there were only two of us.’

‘I see. That’s lovely. You seem so talented. I really admire people who work with art,’ Bilbo comments, with a dreamy tone.

Thorin waits, grunts when Bilbo presses down on a sore knot under her scapula, and quietly asks, ‘How… how about you?’

Bilbo’s hands falter for a second, but she seems to have paused to squirt more oil on her hand. ‘Me? What about me?’ She roughly rubs the skin above Thorin’s panties with her palms, weighing them down with her body. It’s such an odd motion, but Thorin can feel her hips losing tension from it.

‘Do you have any hobbies? You seem to enjoy art so much.’ Thorin’s worried about being offensive, but supposes that it can’t hurt to be polite. She is quite curious about Bilbo, after all.

‘Uh... I do, actually. I write short stories.’ Bilbo sounds uncertain, as if she’s embarrassed to admit this. She picks up Thorin’s left arm to work on.

‘Do you? That’s wonderful.’ Bilbo’s fingers are softly undulating against her shoulders.

‘I suppose,’ a small hum. ‘It’s just a silly hobby.’

Thorin doesn’t poke any further, but she wants to be as supportive as Bilbo is. ‘Music was a silly hobby for me too, in college. And now it’s a career.’

She hears Bilbo crossing to the other side of the bed. ‘Yeah. Thanks for asking, though.’ Bilbo's tone is melancholy, but her voice sounds warm.

‘Anyway, I’ll move on to your legs now.’ Bilbo puts Thorin’s right arm back in place, and slides a warm hand on the side of her buttocks. Straight to the point, then.

Bilbo thoroughly oils the skin on Thorin’s right leg before starting from the foot. Thorin always knew her feet were ticklish, and Bilbo notices that, so she’s as firm and quick as possible. ‘I’m sorry, just bear it for a tiny bit longer,’ she says, and Thorin can hear that Bilbo’s holding back a giggle. It makes her feel good to make Bilbo laugh, even though she’s twitching away from the contact.

The calf massage feels lovely, the extra oil preventing any sort of hair pulling. And once Bilbo reaches her thigh, Thorin’s heart starts pounding against her ears, but it calms down again when her hands go back down for the left foot.

‘Could you open your legs for me?’ Bilbo asks, her voice coming from near Thorin’s left ear. She’s picking up more oil.

Thorin obeys, and feels both exposed and eager. She can feel Bilbo supporting herself against the left side of the mattress, and twitches when slippery hands spread against her buttock and thigh.

They travel up and down, mostly pressing to reach the muscles beneath the fat, but Thorin’s stomach does a flip every time Bilbo’s fingers slip closer to the inside of her thighs. The blunt nails graze the bottom of Thorin’s panties, and she nearly groans with frustration when Bilbo steps back to cross to the other side of the bed once more.

Once Bilbo’s massaged Thorin’s right thigh, she sticks a warm hand under Thorin’s panties with no scruples or hesitation. It seems that she brought a bottle of oil with her, because she squeezes some directly on top of the fabric, puts it away somewhere, and uses both hands to massage Thorin’s cheeks earnestly.

She isn’t sure if this was supposed to feel arousing to others or not, but she’s definitely enjoying all the soft pinching, kneading, and grabbing. It’s a bit embarrassing, she’s sure Bilbo can hear wetness from more than just massage oil, but it’s mostly exhilarating.

‘Is this okay?’ Bilbo checks, her thumbs carefully stroke the fold of flesh between Thorin’s bottom and thighs.

‘Yes. Yes it is.’ Thorin’s voice sounds needy to her own ears.

Bilbo hums appreciatively, and her hands slip further down. Her fingers press on the inner muscles and ligaments connecting Thorin’s crotch and legs, and Thorin lets out a tiny moan. She’s never been touched like this. Expecting the fingers to slip even further down her oily panties, Thorin huffs when Bilbo drags her hands back out, petting her exposed cheeks one last time.

‘It’s time to do your front. Could you turn over for me, Thorin?’ Bilbo asks, and helps Thorin turn. The lights are thankfully very dim, and it doesn’t burn her eyes when she looks up from the face hole. ‘Here, use this other pillow.’ It doesn’t have a hole, and Thorin rests back.

Feeling odd about having half of her body oiled and half dry, Thorin watches Bilbo dab her hands on a soft rag.

‘Are you enjoying this? Is there a part you’d like me to focus on?’ She asks, while carefully and wordlessly reaching to touch Thorin’s face.

Clearing her throat, she closes her eyes for Bilbo to massage her brow. ‘This is wonderful. Thank you.’

Bilbo lets out a small puff of air through her nose, and her voice sounds happy, ‘No problem. It’s not a hardship, massaging such a beautiful dwarrowdam.’

Cursing the timing, Thorin simply licks her lips and swallows as a response. She wishes she could see Bilbo’s face right now. Instead, she can only taste almonds.

‘Done with massaging your face.’ The hands disappear, and she’s free to open her eyes.

Thorin’s wondering how Bilbo will do this next part. She’s incredibly excited to watch it happen, as well.

She follows the hobbit with her eyes, as Bilbo moves all the way down to her feet, and starts from there. ‘Sorry, I know you’re ticklish, so I thought we could get this part done with before moving up,’ she says, sheepishly.

‘It’s alright.’ Thorin’s stomach muscles jump as she gets both feet kneaded roughly at once.

After she’s done with them, Bilbo presses at Thorin’s calves, and spends a long time on her knees, even lifting her legs to check if they were popping or aching somehow.

‘Do you work out?’ Her hands are sliding up Thorin’s thick thigh muscles, and her heart rate picks up speed again, for the umpteenth time tonight.

‘Sometimes.’ Her voice breaks, but she’s focusing on the way Bilbo’s soft hands pet and squeeze.

She looks up, and is sure that Bilbo’s eyes are a shade darker than they were at the beginning of their session. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ says Bilbo.

‘You, too,’ Thorin lets slip. Her arms twitch, she wants to cover her mouth and cringe, but she just frowns and looks away in embarrassment.

Bilbo’s hands glide in between Thorin’s legs for one second, before moving completely away. Thorin can feel that she’s walked closer, and looks at her once more. Bilbo smiles, and bites her lower lip. ‘Thank you,’ she says, and squeezes more oil on her hands.

Thorin can’t stop looking at her, even though Bilbo isn’t always meeting her eyes, besides one or two furtive glances. She slathers Thorin’s torso roughly, quickly, before coming back up, and carefully sliding her hands under Thorin’s arms.

Thorin can feel a sharp and pleasurable tug in her center at this, especially since she’s observing Bilbo’s attentive face while she’s digging slippery hands in Thorin’s flesh. Bilbo skims the hair on her pits gingerly, before looking up at Thorin’s face and sneaking both hands beneath the elastic of her bra.

Her breath stuttering, Thorin looks down, and watches the hands cup and splay fingers against her furry chest. Her pebbled nipples block the path of Bilbo’s smooth fingers, making them jump up every time they pass. In turn, the fingers press down, and strum at her dusky skin. The nubs bounce back in place after each swipe, and she moans.

Thorin’s own voice surprises her, making her look up at Bilbo, who seems to have been watching the whole time, bottom lip caught between her teeth, her face flushed.

This feels absolutely different from the only other time it ever happened to Thorin. She remembers how her date’s hand felt heavy and rough against her breast while they kissed, and his violent reaction to being pushed off of her, and left on the side of the road. It wasn’t at all intimate, arousing, or delicate, like this is.

She feels like Bilbo’s controlling her entire body just by plucking softly at her nipples. Thorin’s arms move up above her head, her knees pressed closed, her chest jutting out for more contact.

‘Oh, you’re _so lovely_ ,’ Bilbo sighs, her voice breathy. Thorin wants to hear more of it.

Bilbo’s palms slide from under the bra, and continue their voyage down Thorin’s stomach. Bilbo swipes her hands up and down, making the skin flushed, and the muscles twitch underneath. Once she reaches Thorin’s panties again, she looks back up, silently reassuring Thorin that it’s okay to ask for her to stop it.

She reaches into her apron pocket, and squirts a generous amount of oil on her other hand, which is hovering right above Thorin’s mound. Since it’s been stored against Bilbo’s skin for a while, the oil is warm, and she watches as it stains Thorin’s light underwear, making it see-through.

Slowly, Bilbo covers the entirety of the skin on Thorin’s hip with touches, kneads, presses, then stops right before sliding a hand underneath the elastic band of her panties.

‘I’m going to massage you down here, and it might feel a bit uncomfortable at first. But I need to soothe the knots of tension away. Please tell me if it hurts,’ Bilbo says seriously, and calmly but firmly moves her palm downward, cupping Thorin.

It feels warm, exciting, like all her senses are focusing on that one hand, resting atop her curls. She can’t help but open her legs a bit further, and watches as Bilbo uses the tip of her fingers to draw tiny loops against her sensitive skin.

Thorin’s never touched herself like this, so she’s surprised at the feeling of the tiny tension bumps that Bilbo quickly finds. They ache a little bit, but as soon as Thorin starts feeling too tender, Bilbo’s fingers have already found another one. Although there’s the quiet instrumental tune playing from the speakers, the wet sounds echo around the room.

‘The bumps aren’t all gone, so I’ll go back to massaging them as we progress with our sessions.’ Bilbo’s left hand is moving upwards while she speaks. ‘Getting them to vanish will help you have a better time in bed.’ Thorin’s arm jerks slightly as the slick fingers gently scratch at her exposed armpit, and rake towards her breast.

Looking at Thorin’s eyes with a hungry expression, Bilbo’s left fingers circle a nipple, while her right fingers travel up and down along her outer labia, beneath her underwear. She waits for any sign of discomfort, then lets her fingers slide easily between Thorin’s lips.

Groaning, and torn between watching both hands, or Bilbo’s face, Thorin lets Bilbo take care of her. Her small fingers don’t venture much, she doesn’t need to reach for slickness, since Thorin’s clearly soaked. Bilbo only explores the shape of Thorin’s clit, mapping it, pulling the hood back, and caressing it. Her touches are light, patient.

Thorin allows her eyes to wander while Bilbo’s focusing at her work, and she takes in the round shapes of the hobbit’s body. She really wants to be invited to snake a hand underneath that short green dress.

The fingers hook on the cup of Thorin’s bra, and brings it down below her breast. Thorin looks back at Bilbo's face, and sees something like desire on it, as if she really wants to do this. A pink tongue flashes between her lips, and Thorin wonders if Bilbo wants to put her mouth on her oiled skin.

‘Can I make you come?’ Bilbo’s voice is very slightly croaky, and Thorin’s hip stutters minutely at the sound of it.

‘Ah, yes. _Please_.’ Bilbo smiles, and bites her bottom lip once more, after a quiet sniff.

Thorin’s own fingers are usually very rough against her clit, when she occasionally masturbates. She tries her best to just ride out the excitement and reach a quick orgasm, so she can sleep, or go on about her day.

This, however, feels like art. Bilbo’s light touches are just short of teasing, and she tries out numerous motions, before sticking to one and repeating it until Thorin’s gasping, then stopping once more. She looks back and forth between Thorin’s face, breasts, and wetness, before changing rhythms.

Bilbo alternates between tweaking and stroking her nipples, and between both of her breasts. So when Thorin’s sure she can’t feel any hotter, Bilbo’s warm hands travel to the other, and her head snaps back in pleasure.

Her hips jump, and Bilbo dutifully maintains a more intense vertical pattern on her clit. The two fingers never press too hard, so it doesn’t escalate in strength, but in intensity. She stops and watches Thorin catch her breath once or twice, before seemingly deciding on going for the kill. Bilbo stares at Thorin’s face, her own mouth open, while repeating the exact same pattern vigorously against the wet skin.

Thorin squeezes her knees shut, clamping Bilbo’s fist between her thighs, and violently spasms with her climax. She grabs at the hand on her chest, and her voice breaks several times before she hears her own moans. Thorin’s afraid of having hurt Bilbo with her thrashing, somehow, but the hand against her mound seems to be staying and pressing down voluntarily. Distantly, she can hear Bilbo’s words of encouragement and praise, and they must factor into the feeling that her orgasm is lasting an entire minute.

Slowly, she comes back down to Bilbo petting her legs, and smiling broadly, her freckled cheeks flushed.

‘That was a treat to watch. I _can’t wait_ for next time.’

 

* * *

 

Lying in bed later that night, Thorin feels like she’ll never be able to sleep again. Her skin is thrumming, and every time she closes her eyes, it’s as if Bilbo’s hands are still there, touching her.

If the departure from the parlor was awkward, she can’t really remember. Thorin vaguely recalls wiping the oil from her body with Bilbo’s help, putting on her clothes, and floating back home. She had to force herself to take a quick shower before changing into one of her only lace and silk nightgowns.

For the first time in many years, she nuzzles the pillows, and appreciates the touch of the sheets against her legs.


	4. Chapter 4

‘May I kiss you?’

She scowls. It’s such an odd question from someone who’s currently rutting against Thorin’s lap.  Looking up towards the source of that breathless voice, and before fully recognizing who it is, a soft pair of lips is dragging against hers.

This person’s breath smells addictive. Sweet, salty, Thorin can’t quite describe it, but it’s carnal and intimate. It’s impossible to stop burrowing her long nose against the soft cheeks, searching for more of it.

Thorin’s hands slide upwards against the legs bracketing her torso, feeling the feathery hairs on the woman’s thighs. The dress she wears is bunched up on her lap, and Thorin's curious fingers reach its loose hem and follow the direction of the fabric outwards, circling the wide, round hip, until they reach yet another hem of fabric. The silky panties are pinching the skin underneath, and they disappear into the middle of warm clefts. Thorin can feel herself getting wet, just from the idea of exploring this pudgy body freely.

A giggle, then a gasp. ‘Hmm,’ Bilbo moans, before opening her lips, and sliding her tongue slowly inside Thorin’s willing mouth.

 

_BEEP-BEEP-BEEP BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!_

 

Feeling that her soul is being forcefully ejected from her body, Thorin sits up, and clumsily shuts the alarm off.

Dragging her legs out of bed, she feels how sticky her panties are. It’s the third time this week Thorin’s had this sort of dream, and she’s dreadfully embarrassed of herself. Ever since her Friday appointment, it’s like she can’t pull her hand out of her trousers. She even opens an incognito tab on her internet browser to look for vibrators, though Thorin isn’t sure which ones she’d like to use.

The worst part, in her opinion, is that every dream, every fantasy she has, features one specific ginger hobbit with silky hands.

Thorin tries to reassure herself. It’s normal that she’d daydream of the only real sexual experience she’s had. It’s healthy to look forward to the next time. She’s even stopped by the store to buy another set of cheap underwear to use in future appointments.

What she isn’t sure of is whether it’s a good thing to be yearning for more of Bilbo, instead of just the sex she can provide.

At least Thorin can go back there, get the massages she paid for, chat with Bilbo. It’s not like she’s asking for more than the contract allows. She won’t be seen as a creep for being interested in her masseuse, clearly, since the premise of the parlor’s services is to bring physical pleasure together with intimacy. There is no way she can be intimate with a person she doesn’t like.

As much as she initially wanted to go back to Pink Azalea Parlor every day of the week, in the hours she isn’t rushing to finish several tracks for work, she spends time with her family. Dís makes sure Thorin keeps her word, and goes in for a hair day at their apartment on Sunday. It’s a very familiar and contradictory feeling for her, being nervous in the presence of people, yet she’s used to her own family, and staying with them relaxes Thorin. They want to know everything that’s going on in her life, but Thorin feels that the massages aren’t supposed to be shared, so she doesn’t tell them about any of it.

It’s the first time in her life that she’s deliberately hidden something from her siblings and cousins, and she feels guilty. But the thought of coming out and admitting what she’s been doing is also incredibly harrowing. Thorin would have to explain that she’s paying for someone to touch her, that she’s finally having sex, and that she’s reconsidering her sexuality. Not that her siblings would have any problems with the latter, but her parents were quite old-fashioned. So she grew up with their prejudiced remarks, although she’s learned to be more open-minded than they were.

Frerin appears later that night, when Thorin’s already halfway through Fíli’s videogame, and waiting for Víli to finish roasting the meat.

‘Yo, sis!’ he laughs, as always, pulling her in for a complicated handshake and a hug. They get interrupted by several tiny fists punching their legs. Frerin disentangles himself and looks down at the two culprits.

‘And how are my rocking little nephews?’ Fíli and Kíli are beside themselves, since their uncle seldom comes for a visit. They drag Frerin all over the house, showing him their school projects, drawings, and pet bugs in a tank. Thorin can hear him exclaiming and giggling with them from the living room.

Once the tour is over, the two boys drag him by the arms to sit down next to Thorin, and watch her ‘crush’ the game.

‘You’re looking so good today, Thorin. Did something fun happen?’ Frerin lays his head on her shoulder, maybe as a way to dodge the kisses Kíli is trying to present him with.

From the corner of her eye, Thorin can see that Dís is looking up from grating cheese at the table. She loves gossip, and Thorin needs to act very naturally, and lie, otherwise it’ll become an argument like the ones she remembers from twenty years ago.

‘No, not really… I guess I just feel relieved after the date thing,’ Thorin grunts, and thankfully, the momentary tension’s passed. Frerin is tickling Kíli, and Dís’s neck relaxes from her attempt at listening into their conversation.

Thorin decides that she’ll tell them when the right time comes. It’s not like she’s embarrassed of herself, but she wants to enjoy the experience without the judgement of others for now.

 

* * *

 

‘Tonight we’ll do something a bit different,’ Bilbo says, while taking Thorin by the hand up the stairs. ‘We’ll use another room, too.’

They take a right instead of a left once they’re on the second floor, and Thorin can see that there are a few doors to rooms she hasn’t seen yet. Bilbo shows her a small and clean toilet outside of the massage rooms, and says it’s for emergencies, so the staff doesn’t have to use the same bathroom as clients during sessions.

The next door Bilbo opens is to a visually different room from the one Thorin was used to. The lights turn on, and there’s a low humming sound, probably from an air conditioner. At first, Thorin just notices that it’s less orange, and more eggshell-toned. But once she walks in, she sees a sheet-covered sofa facing a television screen on the wall, an oddly-shaped leather chair in a corner, and a table with remote controls in the middle. It looks like a luxurious living room with a home theater, especially with the fuzzy white carpet beneath the furniture.

‘Although I won’t give you a massage, per se, I think you’ll feel more comfortable wearing a robe. So please change out of your clothes.’ Bilbo’s hand is warm against Thorin’s lower back while guiding her into the adjacent bathroom.

Thorin called for an appointment as soon as her work was handed in, earlier today. She has the crinkled schedule print out pinned to her cork board, and finds herself looking at it distractedly every day.

She chose one of her newly-purchased panties to wear tonight, since she thought they would get stained with oil, but it’s a relief that they feel quite comfortable. The bathroom is similar to the one from the first room, so she quickly locates everything, undresses, and leaves, feeling excited for what’s to come.

Bilbo is sitting on the odd leather chair, but gets up as soon as Thorin comes in wearing the clean white robe. Bilbo says, ‘Actually, wait. Do you have a smartphone?’

‘Uh, yes.’ Thorin blinks at the odd question. It’s not an odd question, in general, but very out of context when one is expecting to be massaged.

‘Could you bring it here? I want us to hang out for a little while.’ Bilbo sees Thorin’s brow furrowing, and adds, laughing, ‘It’s part of the session!’

Thorin gets back to the bathroom and fishes the phone out of her bag. Once she comes back, Bilbo pulls her slowly by the arms, and sits on the covered couch, smiling.

‘Sit down next to me. Let’s chat.’

As if in one of Thorin’s daydreams, she sits down next to Bilbo, who’s already kicking her delicate sandals to the floor, and is perching herself comfortably on the cushions. Thorin swallows and looks quickly up, but she can’t get the flash of pink panties out of her mind. She wonders if Bilbo wears these provocative clothes on behalf of her clients, or if she just finds them cute.

‘I thought it’d be fun to share some pictures. Do you like cats? I have some pics of mine here,’ Bilbo says, scooting closer, and swiping her thumb until finding a folder filled with unflattering pictures of a balding cat.

‘I do.’ Thorin doesn’t know if Bilbo finds the cat cute, since it’s hers, or if she can be honest and say it looks frazzled and funny. ‘That’s quite a… unique cat.’

Bilbo swivels her head, and mockingly gasps. ‘Excuse you. My cat is charmingly ugly. Here, look at him waking up. He snores, too.’

The silly conversation, and the way Bilbo jokes makes Thorin relax and laugh. She’s a really smart and wonderfully sarcastic hobbit.

‘Do you want to listen to the music I make?’ Thorin asks, opening her phone on social media, where she’s posted short videos of herself playing.

‘Yes!’ Bilbo jumps up while answering, making Thorin bounce on the seat. ‘Show me!’

Thorin clicks on one of the videos with a close-up of her hands playing the electric guitar, and looks up to see Bilbo’s reaction. Her eyes are unblinking, and she has a small smile on her face.

‘That was SO beautiful!,’ Bilbo says, looking dazedly up at Thorin. ‘I want to watch more!’

She huffs out a laugh, and shows Bilbo other videos. It seems her favorites are the ones where Thorin is playing by herself, instead of her music being the soundtrack to graphics, or pictures of something else. She also asks to be shown pictures of Thorin’s family, and compliments them profusely.

‘Do you have pictures of your family?’ Thorin asks, while Bilbo is still looking sweetly at a shot of Kíli messily eating spaghetti.

‘Oh gosh, I don’t! Not here, at least. I have so many uncles and cousins, it’s mayhem,’ Bilbo laughs, and sighs happily. ‘Thanks so much for showing me these things, Thorin. I loved it.’

Thorin looks down, only just noticing that Bilbo has basically linked their arms together, and is very much leaning her naked thighs on Thorin’s lap.

‘Can we stay like this for a bit?’ Bilbo looks up at her, and she does seem very comfortable, bunched up against Thorin’s side.

‘Of course.’

‘You know, this room has this huge television screen for us to watch adult videos,’ Bilbo turns her head towards the opposite wall to say, and looks unimpressed by the technology. ‘I thought I’d do something different with you. Unless you do enjoy watching them?’

Looking ahead, too, Thorin takes a moment to think. ‘I don’t, actually. I’ve tried several times, but it was never inspiring,’ she says, and pauses again. ‘Do you? Like them, I mean?’

‘I do like amateur ones. But all we have here are professional films.’ Bilbo rests her head back on the couch, and looks down at their twined arms. ‘Thorin, may I ask something?’

Thorin’s heartbeat is pounding noisily against her ears. It’s too similar to her dream. Somehow, the idea of kissing Bilbo is much more intense than having an orgasm with her. Thorin licks her lips swiftly and clears her throat.

‘Go ahead.’

Bilbo pushes herself to a sitting position, facing Thorin instead of the television, her ankles crossed.

‘Do you have any… fantasies? You know, sexual ones?’ Bilbo asks in a hushed tone, sounding very interested and cautious.

The mental image of them both kissing fades away, but Thorin can’t form the next one to answer Bilbo’s question. All she thinks of is the sensual dreams featuring Bilbo herself, and knows that those don’t count as a fantasy at all. Thorin makes an effort to remember what she thought of while masturbating during the weekend, and feels her cheeks starting to burn when she realizes it was to images of herself touching Bilbo’s body beneath her short skirt.

Bilbo is still looking at her curiously, holding the robe fabric and playing idly with it.

‘Uh, this is a difficult question… I don’t think I do. Maybe I will, after I have more experience with this,’ Thorin says, and gestures loosely with the arm Bilbo is touching.

‘What do you mean, “this”?’ Bilbo’s head tilts while asking, and Thorin’s heart swells.

‘I suppose I’d have fantasies if I had had sex before.’

Bilbo’s eyes widen for a second. ‘Was… was Friday your first time? _Ever?’_

‘Yeah. Well, I’ve had orgasms before, with myself. But I never had one with a partner.’ Thorin can feel herself wanting to blurt explanations, a million words to make Bilbo not look at her like this, with such concern pinching her eyebrows.

‘Did you like it? It wasn’t too rough, was it? Oh goodness, I’m sorry if it was bad, I…’ Bilbo’s distractedly petting Thorin’s hand, and holding it against her chest while talking. ‘I had no idea.’

‘No, I actually really liked it. You were great,’ Thorin turns her left hand around to hold Bilbo’s. ‘It was amazing.’

Bilbo sniffs wetly, and lowers her lips against Thorin’s hand. ‘Oh, that’s good. Thank Yavanna. I’m glad.’ She sighs, rests Thorin’s hand on her plump thigh, while reaching forward to place a kiss on Thorin’s stubbly cheek.

It makes her chest clench painfully, but she can’t look away from Bilbo’s bright eyes.

‘Gosh, I’m sorry. Let’s do something fun now, shall we?’ Bilbo relaxes her shoulders, and casually drags Thorin’s hand closer to her bunched up skirt. ‘You told me you’ve done it alone before. Do you use any toys? We could play with those tonight.’

‘I didn’t. I was looking for them online, too. It’s a bit boring, with just my own hand,’ Thorin admits nervously.

‘Ah-ha! I have a bunch of them here. We can try them, so you have a reference of what to look for later!’ Bilbo excitedly gets up, giving Thorin a full view of her lacy underwear. ‘Of course, we’ll use condoms on them.’

She rushes to the chest of drawers, and fills her arms with a very colorful array of plastic objects. Bilbo dumps them on the sofa, along with a long zig-zag stripe of condoms.

‘Ah, this is so fun! Let’s see, what to show you first…’ Bilbo picks up some alarmingly big and pink dildos, weighs them, compares them to progressively smaller gadgets, until she finds a small black one, attached to a long thin wire. ‘For someone who’s never used a vibrator, I think we should start with a simple one! Here, let’s wrap it…’

It feels like a sleepover, how Bilbo is sitting cross-legged on the carpet, and showing things to Thorin. It’s hard to stop smiling at the sight.

‘Try it on your skin.’ Bilbo hands her the bundle of wire and plastic, along with a tiny packet of lubricant. She stands up, leaving most of the toys on the cushion on Thorin’s left side, and drops down on the right-side cushion. It seems Bilbo can’t sit normally, since she automatically brings her knees up with her.

Thorin turns the toy around in her hand. One end is protected with the condom, it’s fat and round, and it doesn’t look like it’s supposed to be inserted; the other end has two simple buttons, and behind it, a little panel, probably for the batteries. She clicks on the button with a power symbol, and the little bullet starts vibrating on her left hand.

‘These toys usually have many patterns and intensities; click on this other button to cycle through them.’ Bilbo points at it, and retracts the hand to her lap, as if controlling herself from touching the toys when they’re being handled by someone else.

Clicking on the button ten times, Thorin feels all the settings, before it goes back to the first, which was the softest. Some of them were quite intense, some were long and seemed to have a ‘pattern,’ while some were simply constant vibration.

‘What do I…? Where do I put it?’ Thorin asks, feeling lost.

‘Well, you can try it anywhere. Do you want me to…?’ Bilbo adjusts once more, sitting on her shins, facing Thorin on the sofa.

‘Yeah, I’d like that,’ Thorin says with a small smile.

Bilbo takes both halves of the toy, and sets it to a mild, simple vibration. She seemingly accidentally leaves it on Thorin’s lap so she can untie the robe.

‘May I?’ Thorin can’t ever tell what color Bilbo’s irises are, but they look jet black right now.

Nodding her head, and supporting her arms on the back of the sofa, Thorin lets Bilbo do whatever she wants. It always seems to lead to a good experience, anyway.

The bullet’s vibrating and slipping between the robe’s lapels, and once it travels close to the elastic of her panties, Thorin can suddenly see the appeal of it. It’s a pleasant and alien feeling, much different from the touch of a hand. Like a mild, but lovely itch.

Bilbo hooks a finger on the right lapel of the robe, and looks up in surprise when she sees Thorin’s naked breast bounce.

‘I thought I’d skip the bra part today. Is that okay?’ Thorin isn’t sure, but while undressing, she wanted to feel comfortable, and chose to leave her bra on the hook behind the bathroom door.

‘Are you kidding me? I don’t mind it at all, this is perfect.’ Bilbo’s smiling and fishing the vibrator back by tugging its wire.

She delicately slides it against Thorin’s torso, starting from her collarbones, and drawing loose circles until they reach her exposed nipple. The condom is dry, and while it’s closer to Thorin’s face, she can smell the latex overpowering Bilbo’s much nicer perfume.

After a second of it resting against Thorin’s nipple, she starts to really feel it tingling. She looks down, and sees that the dusky skin is tightening beneath the plastic. Bilbo drags it around on the erect nipple, and Thorin hums at the sensation.

When Thorin looks back up at Bilbo’s face, she’s much closer than before, and staring hungrily at Thorin’s mouth. She blinks slowly, and drags the vibrating bullet across Thorin’s hairy chest, sneaking it beneath the right side of the robe, above her other nipple. Bilbo’s eyes turn even darker at the sound of Thorin’s gasp.

She expects Bilbo to rub the toy down, across the stomach. But she jumps minutely when the hand lifts off her breast and skips directly to rest on the cotton fabric of her panties.

‘Is this good? Do you want me to stop?’ Bilbo’s warm breath hits Thorin’s naked chest, and she’s sure that her heart is trying to leap away from her skin.

‘Don’t stop.’ Thorin furrows her brow, just the thought of stopping here is painful for her.

Bilbo’s gaze travels along Thorin’s features, and she sighs, smiling.

The hobbit twitches forward, as if trying to stop herself from doing something. But slowly, maintaining eye contact, Bilbo lowers her head until her lips touch Thorin’s breast. She nuzzles against it, and Thorin tries to control her heavy breathing, being afraid of bumping Bilbo away with the harsh heaves.

A gentle push guides Thorin’s thighs to spread open, and Bilbo’s skillful fingers snake under the elastic band, carrying the vibrating toy with them. Thorin can’t stop staring at Bilbo, who’s carefully working around enveloping a nipple with her mouth. Bilbo takes her time, dragging her lower lip around the dark skin, breathing over it, before finally closing on it. Thorin’s body shudders slightly, and she bites back a moan.

Bilbo’s tongue sluggishly flicks her nipple, while her right hand carries the bullet around Thorin’s labia, and Thorin can’t believe how she’s dividing her focus in two like this. One finger slides between Thorin’s lips to check for wetness, drags it up towards her clit, circles it delicately, and rests the toy against the sticky skin.

Thorin’s legs feel restless, and looking down at Bilbo’s face, it’s clear that the hobbit is thoroughly enjoying herself. Having forgotten about the other settings, Thorin’s hip stutters when Bilbo changes the vibration pattern to a rhythmic crescendo. Her hand flies down to cover Bilbo’s, as if she’d have more control over the ticklish feelings by touching it.

‘Do you like how it feels?’ Bilbo finally lets go of Thorin’s nipple, but keeps her shiny lips close by.

‘It’s er… a bit ticklish when you do it. Can I?’ Thorin gesticulates with her left hand.

‘Yeah, please!’ Bilbo sensually removes her hand from beneath Thorin’s panties, and reaches over to the table for another packet of lube, and a wet tissue to wipe herself.

With her own hand controlling the toy, it’s easier to apply the right pressure, and Thorin’s surprised to see how fast it brings her pleasure. Her stomach muscles twitch, and her knees jerk up after a few moments. Bilbo sits back down, and immediately leans over to brush her cheek against Thorin’s nipple.

‘Ah!’ Thorin isn’t used to having such a spike in excitement, and her voice comes out shockingly loud to her own ears.

Her hips rise, and Bilbo looks up at Thorin’s face, her mouth half open. Thorin assesses Bilbo’s pose, and sees that she’s pressing her knees together, and her face is a fetching shade of pink. She can’t control the question that bubbles up from her throat.

‘Bilbo, are you…?’ Thorin starts, and Bilbo cuts in.

‘Aroused? Yeah.’

‘Do you ever join in, during sessions?’ Thorin is afraid to ask if she can touch Bilbo, not sure if it’s against the rules.

‘Later on, I do.’ Bilbo looks like she wants to do it right now, however. ‘It’s against regulations to exchange fluids if the client hasn’t seen my medical file, so we tend to keep that for later.’

‘Oh.’ Thorin’s eyes travel down to Bilbo’s tight red shirt, and further down to the controller of the vibrator. ‘Do you want to do it on yourself? I mean, while I do it on me, you do it on yourself?’

Thorin’s sure she’s talking gibberish, but Bilbo’s lower lip bite tells her otherwise.

‘That’s a _great idea._ ’ She quickly reaches over Thorin’s lap, and snatches one of the alarming multi-limbed alien-looking ones in bright purple laying on the sofa. ‘Wait, let me find a special condom for this one… er… here.’ Bilbo carefully slides it inside a glove-like protective plastic film.

‘Wow, that looks awfully complicated,’ Thorin says, dumbly.

‘I know, right? It’s called a rabbit vibrator, because of the little bunny ears that vibrate around the clit.’ She brings it close for Thorin to see, and fiddles with the buttons on its base. ‘It’s got so many settings, because it vibrates and rotates. It looks complicated, but it’s really good at its job.’ Bilbo winks at Thorin, and sneakily presses the button on the bullet that she’s still holding, making it vibrate faster.

‘Oh, oh.’ Thorin sits up to get a better grip at the toy. It’s making her feel quite tingly inside, and she needs to ride the vibrations out with her hips.

‘Just from looking at you, I’m already wet,’ Bilbo comments while pushing her panties to the side, and rubbing the toy’s thickest part wetly against her folds.

Thorin’s brain freezes while looking at that, her mind trying to take in all the details. How the skirt’s ridden up and she can see a plushy roll on Bilbo’s stomach; how the ginger curls on Bilbo’s crotch are short, but are sticking together with her juices; how her hand leaves dimples on the freckled thighs. She cranes her neck, and sees that instead of looking at herself, Bilbo is staring at Thorin’s hands against her own wetness. The whole situation makes Thorin feel her own slickness pooling in her underwear.

Relaxing back against the sofa, Thorin lets her bottom slide lower on the cushion, so her feet can plant on the floor and create support for her hips to grind up against the vibration. Bilbo, however, props herself up with her left arm, just to be able to leave kisses on Thorin’s breast while inserting the purple dildo in herself shallowly, and moaning softly.

Not believing what’s happening, but not being able to stop pressing the bullet against the side of her clit, Thorin’s gasping and groaning. Bilbo lifts her head so Thorin can see her tongue dragging against her taut nipple from the side, and it’s intoxicating to watch.

Her mind lazily goes back to Bilbo’s question on whether she had fantasies, and she can feel the words forming before she can stop them.

‘Can I watch you play with your own?’

Bilbo looks up, her lips plump. ‘With my own what? My breasts?’

She replies with a nervous nod, and is already preparing herself to be kicked out of the parlor.

‘Is this perhaps a fantasy?’ Bilbo smiles impishly, and hooks a finger on the gaping neck of her shirt, slowly dragging it down. ‘I like the way your mind works.’

As if taunting, Bilbo lets bounce free only one breast, a mirror to the way Thorin is at the moment. Thorin’s throat goes dry, watching the wide expanse of freckled, blushing skin, her eyes traveling until it meets a pale nipple pointing down. As if drunk, Thorin watches Bilbo’s fingers pinch the light skin, frame-by-frame. She’s distantly aware that the vibrating bullet is almost slipping from her hand from how wet she is.

Bilbo rests back, joining Thorin, their shoulders touching, opens her leg wider, and returns to pumping the toy inside. Her eyes are roaming around on Thorin’s body, and Thorin feels allowed to look at Bilbo’s, as well.

She doesn’t know where to focus, though: on the playful dragging of fingers against a now rigid nipple, or on the rhythmic sliding of the purple dildo. Thorin decides to look at each part for a little while at a time, her own pleasure a secondary concern.

However, the gasps Bilbo lets out make Thorin’s muscles contract, and she’s sure her panties are absolutely soaked already. Thorin’s eyes snap to a thin string of wetness connecting Bilbo’s thumb and her red curls, and she presses her own toy a bit harder against her skin, groaning loudly at the sensation.

Bilbo’s head snaps up, and Thorin can hear that she’s turned her vibrating dildo to a more intense pattern. She glances down, and Bilbo’s reaching over to click on Thorin’s remote control, too. It goes to a fast paced vibration, almost like a staccato, but with a more lasting vibration. Thorin’s mouth is wide open at this point, and she’s letting out ‘Ah’s with every two cycles, her belly spasming.

‘Oh, Thorin… I’m gonna come soon,’ Bilbo breathes against Thorin’s robed shoulder. Bilbo's hand is pushing the toy in, and rubbing it inside for a moment, and Thorin can see the rabbit’s vibrating ears nudge her clit up and into view. It’s absolutely hypnotizing, and she can’t take her eyes off it.

‘Me too, I’m nearly there,’ Thorin says between ‘Ah’s.

What pushes Thorin beyond the edge is seeing Bilbo’s hips stutter vigorously, and hearing an unbelievably wet sound coming from between her thighs while a clear liquid splashes around the fist holding the toy in place. It’s not a huge amount of liquid, but Thorin’s sure she doesn’t make that much while coming. Bilbo comes silently, but her mouth is open, and her brows furrow beautifully. She stretches herself against Thorin while climaxing, and it’s only by willpower and the desire to watch it all happen that Thorin doesn’t come on the spot.

The orgasm she has with the vibrator is quite different from every other one she’s had yet. She feels like she needs to press the toy and keep it vibrating deep against her folds so it lasts longer, but the loss of control is still there. By holding the bullet in place, she can feel her own contractions making the toy jump slightly. Thorin suddenly feels a peculiar need to finger herself while it’s happening, and she doesn’t know where it comes from, since it’s not something she tends to do. While reopening her eyes, she blurrily sees Bilbo watching, her hand still lazily pumping the toy inside.

Once she feels the aftershocks stopping, she sighs, and slumps back on the cushions again. Thorin finds the other half of her toy and clicks it off.

‘I can’t believe you’ve never had anyone before me, Thorin. You’re _so_ hot…’

Thorin feels a hot wash of embarrassment and nerves within her chest, but it’s quickly reassured by Bilbo’s continued pistoning of the dildo. It’s an honest compliment.

‘I suppose men think I’m too bossy. I’ve never gone past a first date,’ Thorin says, her eyes still drinking Bilbo’s body in. This is something she never felt comfortable in saying out loud, especially not to her family. But somehow, it feels natural to share now.

‘Men don’t know anything, though, do they?’ She bites her lip and smirks. It sounds so much naughtier with the wet slaps echoing around the room.

‘Aren’t you oversensitive? The vibrator made me feel quite numb.’ Thorin cups her clothed mound, and even though she’s still excited, her clit is a bit tender.

Bilbo hums and looks down at her chest, dragging a hand to play with her nipple again. ‘I’ve turned the vibrator off, so I’m just… you know. Fucking.’

‘Does it feel good?’ Thorin swallows, and admires the view.

‘Oh gosh, yeah… I want to come once more before we’re done.’ Bilbo’s neck and face are even redder than before, and Thorin wants to kiss her skin.

‘Um. May I… touch you?’ Thorin’s asked many delicate questions today already, and she’s feeling like she’s pushing her luck.

Bilbo grips Thorin’s wrist with her free hand, and moves it close to her bare breast. ‘Only here, for now.’

The promise of more makes Thorin’s clit throb, but she reverently lowers her palm to touch the silky skin. She can feel it bounce slightly with every pump of Bilbo’s arm, and she isn’t sure if the thumping is from her own heart, or Bilbo’s.

The hobbit looks down at Thorin’s hand, breathless, and smiling, but hisses in pleasure when it starts slowly circling around, folding the nipple in every direction. Thorin feels her body jump with muscle spasms, and moans in sympathy when Bilbo’s hips stutter a second time, the dildo wedged deep inside, but still being pumped in and out, a long moan coming from Bilbo’s throat.

Her breath hitching, Bilbo lies back again, laughing. ‘That was so, so good. I get destroyed by just one hand of yours.’

Thorin gives her a satisfied smile. ‘Don’t give me that much credit.’

With a breathy chuckle, Bilbo sits up to start putting the items away. Since tonight Thorin isn’t asked to change out of her robe immediately after the session’s over, she gets to stay and help with the tidying up. Bilbo grabs a few wet tissues from the container (which had slid down to the carpet while they were busy) to clean their sticky hands. She expertly disposes of the toy condoms, and places the toys on a separate corner to be cleaned later.

‘You said you were having a bit of trouble finding a toy to buy, didn’t you?’ Bilbo asks while standing up, and smoothing her panties back into place. ‘If you can, I want you to buy one specific kind of toy, so it’ll make our sessions move along faster. Kind of like homework.’

‘Sure, I can do that,’ Thorin eagerly says, already fishing her phone out from the robe pocket.

‘May I add your phone number? I can send you the online store via text.’ Bilbo gets her own phone from underneath a sofa cushion, and creates a new contact for Thorin’s info.

Something about this exchange makes Thorin giddy, as if Bilbo really wants to have her on hand at all times. Thorin knows it’s probably all a part of the parlor’s methods, but she can’t separate herself from the hope she’s feeling.

Bilbo sends a message to Thorin so she receives the number right away. It’s on the same app as the family group chats Thorin uses.

> Bilbo: Hi! ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Thorin laughs. ‘What’s that thing?’

‘It’s a cat! Can’t you see its little paws?’ Bilbo imitates the two paws in the air, and huffs when Thorin laughs even harder. ‘Alright, you go put your clothes on,’ she says, in mock annoyance.

Thorin puts her clothes back on, a much faster process since she’s not covered in almond oil this time. Bilbo chats idly with her while they walk downstairs. Her small hand only leaves Thorin’s arm when they’re at the front door.

Once Thorin is back at her apartment, lying in bed, she opens the new chat with Bilbo, and can’t stop smiling at the message she’s received.


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

> Bilbo: Good morning! Here’s the link to the toy I mentioned: (link)  
>  Bilbo: I hope you’re doing well. ♥

Thorin could feel her heart hammering painfully against her ribs. Somehow she thought it would take a good while before Bilbo would continue their chat, but the red icon pops up on the morning after their last meeting. Since she’s on the computer, she doesn’t think twice and clicks on the thumbnail to open the conversation. She types ten different greetings, before giving up and following the link to the adult store. At least she’ll have something objective to discuss, after checking the toy out.

Once the webpage loads, Thorin’s eyes widen at the sight of the toy. It’s not something she’d choose for herself. It looks thick, long, and certainly meant for insertion.

She holds her breath while scrolling down to see more. There’s pictures of the toy in many angles, color options (black, purple, pink,) and further down, a video of an elf holding it in their hands. Thorin triple-checks that the sound is coming from the earplugs instead of the speakers, and hits play.

Preparing herself to watch a distasteful display, Thorin is pleasantly surprised to see that the elf is simply holding the toy and talking about its attributes in a dreamy voice. The toy isn’t lengthy, she immediately notices, especially compared to the elf’s elongated hand. They drop the buzzing toy inside a water tank to prove that it is indeed waterproof, and that makes Thorin consider her small and mostly unused bathtub for a second. The elf’s long fingers slide artfully around the odd toy, and point out how the inverted L shape is perfect for G-spot stimulation.

Frowning, Thorin watches the rest of the video, expecting more information on that particular feature, but it fades to black and ends with a short jingle. For someone who thinks she at least knows about basic anatomy, Thorin is baffled. What in the world is a G-spot? It doesn’t justify Bilbo recommending it for Thorin to buy. If she wanted Thorin to get an insertable toy, it could have been any other product. Deciding to not make a fool of herself again, Thorin opens another tab on her browser to look up what a G-spot is.

> Thorin: Hello. Good morning to you, too. Sorry for the delay in answering, but I had to learn about G-spots. Is that my homework?

Her mind is reeling with what she just learned. The concept of vaginal ejaculation is so foreign to her, that it’s hard not to imagine it happening the way she’s seen a penis do, during her occasional ventures to adult video sites. The sex ed sites she’s visited state that it’s another sort of fluid that comes out, but it’s very hard to believe. Maybe they were mistaking normal vaginal lubricant with ejaculate?

While she’s creating an account to buy the toy, the chat icon pops up again. Thorin’s heart rate picks up again, since it may be Bilbo’s reply. She forces herself to focus and finish the registration, at least, before clicking on the blinking tab.

> Bilbo: Smart girl. I want you to use it a few times before coming for your next appointment, if possible.  
>  Bilbo: Some people don’t ‘believe’ in the G-spot, but I want to help you reach your own conclusions.

Thorin bites her nails, watching the three bouncing dots on the screen: Bilbo is typing right now. It’s too stressful to wait for the message to appear, so she checks the sex toy website again. There’s a sale going on, so she adds a few toy condoms, and some bottles of lube to her cart. The insertable toy Bilbo recommended has a built-in vibrator, so she assumes it’ll be useful in more than one way, and proceeds to pay and place her order.

> Bilbo: Let me know when the toy arrives, and I’ll guide you through your lesson. ;)

Gulping, Thorin wonders what that really means.

> Thorin: Will do. I’ve just placed my order.

> Bilbo: Great!

Thorin knows that this will be the end of the conversation for a while, so she gets up to heat some leftover gnocchi for lunch. Her phone buzzes against the counter, and she tries to stamp down any hope that Bilbo will have continued talking.

She can see this quickly getting dangerous for herself. Thorin wakes up and goes to bed thinking of Bilbo, every day. She’s aware that it isn’t healthy, and that probably most of her exchanges with the masseuse are feigned interest for the sake of the Pink Azalea Parlor’s program. But Thorin would rather feel this underlying hope that Bilbo is enjoying this, than to cancel the entire affair out of bitterness.

The phone vibrates again when she’s halfway through her lunch, and she can’t stop her hand from grabbing it to see who the message is from. There are messages from the family chat, and from Bilbo. Thorin first opens the family chat to check if they need her assistance, and is relieved that she did it, since Dís is asking someone to accompany her and Fíli to the A&E.

Not wasting any time, Thorin jams the rest of her food back in the fridge, grabs her keys and wallet, and rushes out of her apartment. Her nephews’ school is just a few blocks away, but the hospital is quite far away, especially for an 8-year-old, so she picks them up by car. Dís is holding Fíli by the hand when Thorin drives by the quiet entrance. It feels unusual to come to pick them up in the middle of the morning, since there are so few people out in the street.

‘Thanks for coming, Thorin,’ Dís says, while hurriedly getting in and sitting in the back seat. ‘I’ll ride back here with Fíli, okay?’

‘Yeah, of course. What happened?’ Thorin’s accelerating the car as soon as she hears the door slam shut.

Looking at the rear mirror, Thorin catches glimpses of a bloody rag, and hears Fíli whining softly.

‘He got hit on the nose by a ball during P.E. class.’ Dís is holding his chin, instructing him to look up while she wipes the blood from his mouth.

‘By friends said I fainded vor a midute!’ Fili stuffily says, proudly, while his mother shushes him.

‘You’ll get blood on the car seat if you keep talking, darling.’

‘It’s okay, Dís,’ Thorin says, still laughing at Fíli’s statement.

Once they rush into the clinic, Thorin is in charge of holding the bloody rag in place on Fíli’s face while Dís fills out the medical forms. She tries not to talk so the bleeding will stop, but it’s hard to cut the boy short while he’s talking about his day at school, in between wet sniffles.

After a few minutes’ wait, a dwarven nurse calls for him, and the three of them accompany Fíli to have his consultation. Thorin has to stay outside so she won’t overcrowd the doctor’s room, so she squeezes into one of the plastic chairs in the sterile beige corridor. Since there’s no one around, and Dís will take a while, she fishes her cell phone from the back pocket of her trousers to check what Bilbo’s typed.

> Bilbo: That toy is pretty useful. The vibrations are strong, it’s not too big, and the shape is lovely.  
>  Bilbo: I mean, at least I think so. If you don’t like it, you can use it as a normal vibrator.  
>  Bilbo: There are others I think you’d like, but this one is cheap, and friendly for a first toy.  
>  Bilbo: Gosh, sorry. I’ve been wittering on here lol. I’m being annoying, so I’ll shut up.

Thorin sees that the messages were around fifteen minutes apart, and smiles to herself.

> Thorin: No, it’s alright. I’m sorry I didn’t reply faster, I was taking my nephew to the hospital.

Immediately, Bilbo’s status is ‘online,’ and she quickly replies, while Thorin is typing reassurances that Fíli is well to the family chat.

> Bilbo: Oh no!!! Is he okay? What happened? Which nephew? (╯•﹏•╰)

Trying not to laugh out loud - she’s in a hospital, after all - Thorin makes an effort to type a reply while her body is shaking with quiet chuckles.

> Thorin: It’s Fíli, the older of the two. He has a bloody nose from getting hit in the face with a ball, nothing serious.  
>  Thorin: What is that little face, though? It doesn’t look like a cat.

> Bilbo: Thank goodness! I’m glad.  
>  Bilbo: What??? It’s not a cat, it’s a little face with a wibbly mouth.  
>  Bilbo: Seriously, Thorin, you need to take some art analysis classes. :P

> Thorin: That one (:P) I understand. And sorry, but emoticons aren’t art.

She quickly looks up at the sound of the door opening. Dís has a frown on her face, and Fíli looks like he’s holding back tears.

‘We have to go back to reception, and then to the x-ray room. The doctor wants to make sure nothing’s broken.’ Dís sits on the chair to the right, and Thorin’s finger flies to lock the phone screen. ‘Fíli was such a brave dwarrow. I bet it’s hurting a lot, but he didn’t even yell.’

‘Let’s do this. It’ll be over before you know it,’ Thorin bows down to say, and offers her arms, asking wordlessly if Fíli wants to be carried there. He comes closer, still holding the rag against his face, and Thorin picks him up.

While walking down the hall, Dís rummages in her bag to find a juice box for Fíli, and asks ‘Were you texting our family? I want them to know he’s doing fine.’

‘I did text them, yes.’ Thorin looks at her nephew’s face, noticing that he seems less weepy. He would have said no to being carried at any other time, already being eight years old, so Thorin enjoys the half-hug while she can. Kíli is always willing to climb on her, but she misses hugging both of them sometimes.

They wait for the nurses to call for them while Fíli slowly drinks his juice. It goes much faster than usual, though, since it’s so early in the morning. Soon enough, Thorin is waiting outside a thick door again, so she picks up her phone, which has been buzzing occasionally.

> Bilbo: Don’t be so traditional. Web art is a thing.  
>  Bilbo: Although I know nothing of it. It was my little cousin who downloaded the emoticon app on my phone, lol.  
>  Bilbo: I guess he wanted to use it himself, but he isn’t allowed to own a phone yet.

> Thorin: How old is he?

> Bilbo: He turned four last month. We even shared a birthday party.

> Thorin: Oh. Happy late birthday, then.

> Bilbo: I’ll let him know next time I see him.

> Thorin: I meant happy birthday to you, Bilbo.

> Bilbo: OH!!! Hah, thank you. (◍•ᴗ•◍)♥  
>  Bilbo: I’m so used to having people congratulating him instead of me!  
>  Bilbo: After he was born, it was easy to stop feeling bad for people forgetting my birthday, lol.

> Thorin: Well, I’ll remember it.

She can feel her hands sweating after pressing send. Thorin quickly types another message.

> Thorin: How many candles did you have on your cake?

> Bilbo: Don’t be indiscreet! You shouldn’t ask for a lady’s age. ;)

> Thorin: “LOL”

> Bilbo: Hahaha! 36.

> Thorin: We’re really close in age, then. I thought you were much younger than me.

> Bilbo: Flatterer. ;)

‘Look, aunt Thorin! It’s a picture of my skull!’ Fíli is wiggling the x-ray film so it makes a loud sound.

Thorin quickly presses the button to dim her screen again, and accepts the noisy picture in her hands. ‘Wow. Does this mean that you’re a skeleton wearing a dwarven disguise?’ She laughs at Fíli’s eyes widening.

‘Oh, don’t give him ideas, Thorin. I won’t hear the end of it if Kíli has nightmares.’ Dís straightens the pebble’s clothes, and checks if his nose is still bleeding. ‘What is everyone saying in the family chat? It’s already lunchtime at the factory.’

With an unusually quick (and therefore obviously guilty) movement of her hand, Thorin turns her phone screen back on, and clicks back to the other chat. Thorin can see Dís peering at her face from the side, and prays silently for her not to ask to see what she had been doing before. Dís is naturally a very curious person, to the point that Thorin sometimes thinks her sister assumes that the world is hers for the taking, and other people are standing in her way. Thankfully, Dís just looks quietly at the family chat on Thorin’s screen, and nods after seeing that Víli and Balin left messages.

Thorin can feel that the mood is slightly tense, and curses herself for it. She should have waited to talk to Bilbo, so as not to raise any suspicion from her sister.

They finally call Fíli’s name, and this time, Thorin quickly types updates for the family chat, and leaves Bilbo’s messages unread. While waiting again outside the doctor’s office, Thorin opens her email app to reply to clients, so she won’t feel tempted to talk with Bilbo while waiting.

After a few emails sent, the door opens, and her nephew’s nose is covered with an odd blue contraption. Before Thorin can get up from the chair, Fíli comes running to show her, asking if she thinks he looks cool.

‘He actually broke it! I can’t believe the strength of children,’ Dís huffs out a laugh at the whole situation. ‘We need to go pick up Kíli. He must be waiting already. Can you tell Víli that we’re going? Otherwise he’ll have to leave work.’

‘Sure.’ Thorin opens the app, and Fíli rests his little hand on her knee to look, too.

‘What’s “Bilbo?”’ he asks, his finger hovering over the chat icon.

Thorin’s heart nearly jumps out her throat, and she pulls the phone back to click on the family chat before Fíli can touch anything. ‘It’s a friend of mine.’

Fíli is a smart boy, so he doesn’t press further, but Thorin sees Dís step closer to look.

‘Here, I told them we’re picking Kíli up,’ Thorin says, standing up. She’s feigning confidence, so that maybe Dís won’t want to ask further about it. ‘Are we done? Let’s go back to the car.’

‘A new friend, huh? How come you haven’t told me about them?’ Dís asks, while following Thorin to the parking lot. Thorin sighs but continues walking ahead at a brisk pace.

After helping Fíli onto the tall car seat, Dís gets in through the passenger door, much to Thorin’s dismay. ‘Is that a friend, or a “friend?”’ She asks, nudging an elbow against her sister’s arm.

‘Leave me alone, Dís,’ Thorin says, brusquely, and starts the car while Dís chuckles to herself.

* * *

 

Hours later, Thorin is dripping sweat on the cool tile floor of her apartment while doing push-ups. It’s an afternoon that requires a stronger form of stress relief, especially after driving Dís and the boys to get ice cream, and having to suffer under Dís’s unrelenting gaze. By the time she got home, she was seeing red. So she peeled her clothes off, threw her phone on the sofa, and started doing sit-ups. It’s working well, so after losing count on the exercises, Thorin drops to the floor, panting, happy, and tired.

The phone buzzes, and she’s finally ready to look at it again. Thorin blindly reaches for it, and  sees that the chat with Bilbo has many unread texts. So she sits up with her back against the couch to read them.

> Bilbo: How about you? How old are you?  
>  Bilbo: Who am I kidding, I already know from that first time you came by the Parlor, lol.  
>  Bilbo: Ugh, that was creepy, wasn’t it? Sorry!  
>  Bilbo: Anyway, what are you doing now? :) How’s Fíli?

Thorin huffs out a laugh. Bilbo seems to be digging an awkward hole for herself there.

> Thorin: Sorry again, I just arrived home. I had to drive my sister and nephews to a few other places, too.  
>  Thorin: Fíli is well. His nose was broken, but apparently it didn’t need to be set back in place.
> 
> Bilbo: You’re such a good person, driving your family everywhere, taking them to the hospital.  
>  Bilbo: I thought all families were like mine: only interested in gossip, judging others, and my parents’ will.  
>  Bilbo: I’m starting to feel more hope for Arda, when I think about yours!
> 
> Thorin: When you say it like that, they do sound pretty nice. ;)

Her bottom is hurting from sitting in the cold hard floor, but Thorin doesn’t want to get up and break the conversation.

> Bilbo: Haha!  
>  Bilbo: Do you have work, still? I’m home early, myself.

At this, Thorin takes a second to focus and try to remember the days Bilbo had highlighted on the print. Tuesday was indeed painted orange, and so was Wednesday. Thorin feels an eager pull on her stomach to get up and plan a visit for tomorrow, but tries to settle down. She should wait until the toy is there, so she can take her time, and do the ‘homework’ Bilbo asked her to do.

> Thorin: How come? Didn’t you have any clients today?  
>  Thorin: And no, I won’t work anymore today, either.
> 
> Bilbo: I didn’t, since you didn’t come. Lol.

Thorin frowns at that. She waits until Bilbo finishes typing, but does this mean she’s Bilbo’s only client?

> Bilbo: See, the way we work in the Pink Azalea Parlor is: each masseur gets one client at a time, so we can focus on just that person until their course is done. If we get more clients than we can accomodate, they go to a waiting list. And depending on the time of the year, we can call other masseurs to fill in. This is why the treatment has such a high quality! :3
> 
> Thorin: Oh, I see. Then, would it be better for you if I sent a message in case I don’t come? So you don’t have to wait for me there?
> 
> Bilbo: No, no! I come in anyway, since I’m the chief masseuse. I train the other employees, and help out with the laundry when I don’t have clients. So don’t worry.  
>  Bilbo: Gosh, do you mind if I send you audio messages instead of texts? You can reply however you want, but my hands hurt from typing!
> 
> Thorin: Sure, go ahead.

For some reason, Thorin feels the need to sit up and retie her hair. It’s silly, since Bilbo won’t be seeing her face, but she does it anyway. Thorin gets up from the floor, roughly wipes the sweat from the tiles with her dirty t-shirt, and sits on the edge of her sofa bed. Thorin tells herself that it’s a way not to get it damp, but she knows she’s keen on hearing more from Bilbo today. Tonight, rather, she notices while looking out the window. The phone buzzes once more, and there’s a microphone icon on the chat with Bilbo, like the ones Thorin’s used to see in conversations with Dís.

‘Hey! Uh… um. Sorry, I’m a bit distracted, I forgot what I was going to say… Oh yeah! I was thinking that we could do a part of your homework before the toy arrives,’ Bilbo’s voice sounds more nasal through the weak speakerphones of Thorin’s mobile. ‘If you don’t want to do it, it’s okay! I was just a bit bored, and thought that we could have fun like this, too.’ Thorin can picture Bilbo’s smile from her tone.

She swallows, clears her throat, and prepares to respond via audio. It’s not something she usually does, but it’s only fair to reply in fashion.

‘I’d like that. I don’t have anything to do tonight, anyway.’

‘Great! Uh, maybe you should get comfortable? I’ll guide you through it.’ Bilbo’s voice wavers, as if she’s looking around the room while speaking.

Instead of answering, Thorin springs up, washes her hands in the toilet sink, dries herself, and rushes to the bedroom. She looks down at her knees, and decides not to be too hasty, so she leaves her jeans on. Lying back on top of her covers, Thorin swipes her moist hands against clothed thighs, and picks the phone back up from her pocket.

‘Done. I’m sitting on my bed now.’ Thorin waits for the response while switching her bedside lamp on, and the main light off. The phone fades back to standby, and Thorin remembers to fiddle with the screen settings for tonight, to make it stay on for longer while she’s doing this.

It buzzes again. ‘Good. Oh, I forgot to ask: do you live by yourself? I was assuming you do, so I’m sorry if I’m making things weird,’ Bilbo says, quickly.

Thorin nearly drops the phone while trying to reach for the record button. ‘I do live by myself, yes.’

‘Okay! Okay, so…’ Some rustling sounds, as if Bilbo is propping herself up, and her voice comes clearer next. ‘Please lower your trousers for me, if you’re wearing them.’

‘How impatient of you, Bilbo.’ Thorin’s chuckling softly, but drags her jeans down with one hand.

‘Pfft, I just want to get to the massage before anything else happens. I’ll be doing the same motions with you, too.’ More rustling. ‘Cup your front with your dominant hand, and after a little while, draw circles with your fingers on top of your underwear.’

The thought of Bilbo doing the exact same thing as Thorin is alarmingly stimulating. She looks down, and pets her mound the same way Bilbo did once. It helps her relax, and warms her skin, so the touch of her fingers isn’t unwelcome at all. Thorin’s zig-zagging her middle finger across her soft labia, when the phone buzzes again.

‘I’ll take that silence as a sign you’re doing it.’ Breathy laughter. ‘Now, slip your fingers under your panties, and try to find those bumps beneath your skin, around your cooch.’

Thorin snorts at that. ‘“Cooch?” Really?’

Bilbo is also giggling when she answers. ‘Just do it, Thorin. Jeez.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Thorin says, and uses two fingers to dig for the tiny bumps and rub them. The first few feel a bit sore, but she keeps alternating between them, since there’s quite a few of them. While she’s at it, Thorin clumsily presses play on Bilbo’s next message.

‘You’re giving me too much power,’ Bilbo says, with a pleased sultry voice. ‘When it feels too sensitive, you should bring that hand up, maybe play with your nipples, or slide it on your tummy. Try to think of sexy scenarios while you’re at it.’

‘Uh. Alright.’ Thorin looks up at the ceiling after sending the message, trying to think of something new, but everything that comes to mind smells like Bilbo, feels like her soft hands. Since she thankfully doesn’t need to share her thoughts, Thorin allows herself to think of the hobbit crawling slowly over her body, biting her lip. The hand she snakes underneath her soft damp bra is much heavier and less careful, but it’s still exciting to imagine it’s Bilbo’s. It’s even more interesting when she imagines Bilbo sitting on her hips for the first time. Thorin’s rough fingers pinch her own right nipple softly while imagining the velvety freckled thighs spread on top of her, maybe rocking back and forth slightly.

It’s something Thorin has never considered when she thought she was simply heterosexual: to sleep with someone smaller than herself, to feel their lighter weight on her body. She’s used to seeking out tall, strong men, preferably dwarves, so that she can fit into a more feminine role in the subsequent relationship. But having this sort of fantasy, she allows herself to finally be rid of the wishes to be lean, small, soft, feminine, and just be Thorin. At least her half-imagined partner has made sure to tell Thorin she’s pleased with her dwarven body.

Thorin’s hands travel to her other breast, and suddenly she wonders what Bilbo fantasizes about. The other woman seems quite experienced, so Thorin imagines that it’s something possibly kinky, complicated, and maybe with a tall masked man. The scenario makes her uncomfortable, and she doesn’t know where it came from, exactly. Bilbo has never said anything about her sexuality, and yesterday, she even let out a spiteful remark about men in general. The phone buzzes once more, and Thorin jumps.

‘Your hands can travel back down below your underwear. You can drag them down, if you want, too.’ Bilbo’s voice is a bit lower now, and Thorin’s toes curl.

‘Can I… ask you something?’ Thorin’s fuzzy brain is having trouble filtering her impulses, and she’s sending the message before she can stop herself.

‘Yeah, of course.’ Bilbo’s tone is soft, inviting.

Her hands are suddenly sweating, but she goes ahead with her question. ‘What do you usually think of, while… doing this?’

Feeling like death came early for her, Thorin waits for Bilbo’s answer. Her hands still right above her coarse curls for what seems like hours, until the buzz comes. Thorin holds her breath while listening to it, Bilbo’s voice filling her bedroom.

‘Umm… it depends, really. Sometimes I have characters in my mind, and I play around with them. And at other times, I imagine myself doing things. Right now, since we’re talking, I’m imagining you’re here with me, and it’s working pretty well!’ The implications of that sentence make Thorin’s brain freeze, and she replays the message before answering to it. Bilbo’s quiet giggle at the end causes Thorin’s knees to press together.

‘Ah. That’s good to hear, then.’ Thorin’s mind reels. ‘And that I’m not the only one. It’s... nice.’

‘Oh, really? _I like that._ ’ Bilbo lets out a sigh, and Thorin’s hand travels down her wetness, seemingly on its own volition. ‘Are you wet?’

The question sounds dirty, but coming from Bilbo, it’s less harsh in Thorin’s ears. Thorin slides a finger between her lips, and feels the small pool of slick. She keeps her finger there until Bilbo tells her what to do.

‘I am.’

‘Then, wet your fingers, and circle them around your clit until my next message.’

Thorin’s mind helpfully generates the picture of Bilbo doing this exact thing, and her body feels like it’s pulsating already. She imagines Bilbo kneeling on top of her, one leg on each side of her furry stomach, demonstrating it on herself, giving Thorin a live show.

‘Have you ever inserted anything down there? Fingers, anything?’ Bilbo’s a bit breathless. ‘Don’t stop circling your clit, by the way.’

Her left hand is even slower than usual, but Thorin manages to pick up the phone again. ‘I have. Fingers. It doesn’t happen often, though.’

‘I want you to push your middle finger inside yourself, slowly, and rub up, as if you’re scratching at your inner wall.’ Behind rustling sounds, Thorin is sure that she’s hearing quiet wet smacks. ‘It’s the wall closest to your clit. I want you to explore, and tell me if you feel a little rough spot there.’

Thorin props herself up on her left elbow, lowers her pants even further, opens her knees wider, and feels around her entrance. She does touch herself there from time to time, but it never provokes strong feelings, so it’s mostly as an occasional curiosity. Thorin read up earlier that the rough spot Bilbo mentioned should be the G-spot, so she carefully draws small loops on that wall. It’s not too noticeable, but she can feel an oddly-textured part, and keeps caressing it while recording a message.

‘I think I found it. It’s um, small? And a bit hard.’ This feels weird to say out loud, but Bilbo seems pleased at her report.

‘Oh, good girl. You don’t have to play with it if you don’t want to, but until our next session, I want you to find it every time you touch yourself. Maybe press it a bit before getting off. And when the toy arrives, that’s where it should rub against.’ Bilbo sounds a bit breathless. ‘Now, I think you deserve something nice for being such a good student.’

Thorin berates herself for getting excited at Bilbo’s words and tone, but her fingers don’t stop drawing lines on either side of her clit and lips. ‘Do I?’

The next message surprises her, since it’s not a playable audio link. But just from the thumbnail, Thorin’s eyes widen, and she can’t believe what she’s seeing. Right when Thorin’s thumb hovers above it, another photo thumbnail bumps it up, and Thorin stops pleasuring herself to focus on them.

The first one is a snapshot of a freckled cleavage, with one small finger hooking the shirt collar to the side, and showing a pebbled pale nipple. Thorin can see Bilbo’s tiny mischievous smile cropped by the edge of the frame. The second picture was apparently taken from atop Bilbo’s lower stomach, so Thorin can see her belly button right below a bunched-up burgundy skirt, a faint line of red hair leading downwards, a hand resting diagonally on the crease of her crotch. Then, a flush patch of curly ginger hair framing soft bright pink lips, which meet with a little extra fold of flesh forming a tiny ‘v’; a bump curves the line on both sides, since Bilbo’s clit still visible when her legs are closed; the tips of the fingers resting daintily next to the triangular bush are glistening. A dark spot where the plump thighs meet, and a straight line down, only perturbed by a rolled-up strip of red lace in between: Bilbo’s panties.

Afraid of making Bilbo feel unwanted, or unsexy, Thorin collects herself through her speechlessness to form a message.

‘ _Wow_ , I… uh... ‘ She closes her eyes, and the soft curves are there, as if tattooed to her eyelids. ‘Sorry. But I wish I was there to touch you.’

Thorin wants to eat her own phone at this; she seems to blurt out the worst possible words when she’s nervous. Bilbo probably thinks she’s a pervert now. There’s a new message, and she forces herself to listen before planning her one-way trip to another country.

‘Hmm, I’d love that, too. I wish you were here.’ Bilbo moans softly after a second, apparently she didn’t stop touching herself. ‘We can wait until your next session, though.’

The promise of having Bilbo in her arms sends a thrill of elation coursing through Thorin’s body. ‘You’re too beautiful. It’ll be hard to wait.’ Her thick fingers are back between her drenched lips, and she gasps at the feeling.

‘It’ll make meeting me even sweeter, then.’ Bilbo’s voice is wavering, maybe from the effort of moving her arm while talking.

Thorin can’t wait anymore, so she scrolls the chat back up, and clicks at the pictures Bilbo sent her. She kicks her jeans and underwear off, and relaxes her thighs so they’re wide apart. Her eyes take turns between looking at either picture of Bilbo’s chunky body, and at her own fingers sliding quickly up and down between her legs.

Closing her eyes, she imagines Bilbo crouching near her face, framing the pink folds with her fingers, wordlessly asking for Thorin to use her mouth. Just at the thought of that, Thorin can feel a rush of wetness dribble down her lips, and her hips tremble with pleasure. The orgasm hits her suddenly, her knees slap together while her body quavers, broken mental images of Bilbo’s thighs pressing against her cheeks flashing before her eyes, and she presses her right hand roughly down on her mound to ride it out.

After a few loud pants that bounce freely against the walls, illustrating how suddenly lonely Thorin feels, she lifts the phone to see if Bilbo left anything else.

Bilbo seems to be as breathless as Thorin is. ‘Oh gosh… You must think… I’m addicted to this…’ She swallows and sighs. ‘But I don’t care. It felt so good.’

That never really crossed Thorin’s mind, and she brushes it off. ‘I don’t. But if you are, then I must be, too,’ Thorin takes a second to catch her breath. ‘At least we can face the consequences of our addiction together.’

‘I’ll take your word on that.’ Bilbo laughs, and it makes Thorin smile from ear to ear. She’s used to people not understanding her humor, possibly because of her serious demeanor. But Bilbo does, and it makes Thorin feel content. ‘I’ll go wash up and sleep. Thanks for this, Thorin. It was fun.’

‘Thank you, too. Good night, Bilbo.’ Thorin wishes she could kiss the hobbit’s lips, and share a bed with her for the night.

‘Good night, love.’


	6. Chapter 6

Thorin sits up on her bed. It looks like it’s early, judging from the bluish hue on her bedroom walls, maybe before 6AM. She couldn’t fall asleep last night, Bilbo’s final message endlessly repeating in her mind.

‘Good night, love.’

Was it just an expression of affection? The last time someone called her ‘love’ was when her mother was still alive. And it’s simply unlikely that Bilbo would see Thorin with motherly eyes. But if not that, then, why? Thorin picks up her phone from the nightstand and replays the audio once more.

It sounds so natural. Thorin’s heart hurts from how easily it seemed to come from Bilbo’s lips. She doesn’t want to bring it up next time they meet and make Bilbo feel self-conscious about this, however. Thorin’s certainly been called much worse things in her life; she can allow this one, but only if she understands where it’s coming from.

She gets up and starts her day. The issue will certainly stay on her brain, but she needs to get out of the house and buy groceries. While in the shower, her eyes end up resting in fixed positions, staring blindly at the grout between the white tiles. Cleaning herself from the stickiness of the night before, she’s reminded of the photos Bilbo sent her. She should delete them, or move them to a hidden folder on her phone so they’re not easily found by anyone else, especially not her nephews. The water sluices over her face, and she notices she’s been soaping her front for a long time. Making quick work of washing her hair (this time with a generic conditioner that regrettably smells far worse than the mint-scented kind Dís gave her), Thorin finishes showering, dresses, and opens the front door to leave. On the ground floor, she checks inside the mailbox marked 31 (nothing) and goes down the stairs to the garage.

Thorin finds herself gaping at the colorful cereal boxes in the breakfast aisle, not remembering exactly how she got there, still thinking about Bilbo. She has to shake her head several times while shopping, thankful the store is nearly empty, it being so early in the morning.

After paying, and loading the bags in the trunk of her car, Thorin sits in front of the steering wheel, and feels for her phone and wallet inside her back pockets. She usually checks to see if Dís needs anything when she’s inside her car, but today Thorin scrolls through the casual chatting in the family group, and stares at the conversation with Bilbo. It says the last time she was online was at 12:09AM. Thorin’s itching to say something, to leave a very confused message, but she dims the screen, and throws the phone on the passenger’s seat instead.

Once at her building, she struggles with the weight of the plastic bags cutting into the skin on her wrists. Thorin’s sure she can make it to the elevator and into her apartment without taking a communal cart, even though she’s profusely cursing the fact that she forgot to pack a tote bag. Feeling frustrated and sweaty, Thorin manages to fish her keychain out while inside the elevator, but stops right outside its door when it reaches the third floor.

It’s been ages since she’s ordered anything online, and she forgot that the building employees deliver bigger parcels to the doorstep of each apartment. Thorin feels her face heat up mostly from shame and a little from excitement: what if there’s something compromising written in the small box about it being a sex toy? She rushes inside, dragging the parcel along with the side of her combat boot, and drops the groceries on the kitchen floor. After accidentally slamming the door, she kneels down to read the small letters printed on a slip glued to the box. Her shoulders relax considerably when there’s nothing specific displayed. They probably don’t have to disclose what’s inside to the post office, as it was a local delivery. Or maybe it didn’t even come by post.

Thorin brings the box to the counter and frowns, angry at herself for not being more careful about all of this. Things are slipping from her grip, and it’s a hateful feeling, especially for someone who used to plan most possible outcomes around her actions. She puts the groceries away less gracefully than usual, but is thankful that the carton of eggs wasn’t harmed in the bumpy ride upstairs.

Since it’s still early, Thorin checks for any new work emails through her phone, and decides to take a nap until noon, so that she’ll maybe stop yawning uncontrollably. Taking the small box from the counter, she kicks off her trousers, closes the blinds on her bedroom window, and falls backwards on her bed. The parcel is still in her hands, the stiff cardboard digging against her skin, so she gives in to the curiosity of checking it out for the first time.

Roughly tearing the sellotape around the box, Thorin’s faced with a small plastic pack containing her new toy. It’s not big, too sexual, or offensive. It used to be one of her main fears while buying toys, that once they arrived, she’d be put off by their explicitly phallic appearance. She pulls the purple toy from the box. There’s a tiny book with instructions behind it, and a little tag around the cap with a diagram about the battery insertion. Cursing herself once more, Thorin reaches for the drawer on her nightstand, hoping that she still has at least one battery lying around. By some stroke of luck, there’s an open package with two batteries, forgotten in the back of the drawer, and she makes a mental note to buy more next time she’s out of the house.

The instructions are quite simple: just unscrew the cap, add one battery, close it tightly so water doesn’t get in, and click the buttons (power and vibrations) to turn it on. Thorin drops the mess of cardboard and plastic to the bedroom floor, and takes the effort to get up to wash her new purchase with soap in the bathroom sink before even thinking about using it. It feels soft to the touch; it’s made from some sort of velvet-textured plastic, and although it’s quite solid, it’s a little bit squishy when she digs her thumbs into the silicone shaft. Obviously, its shape is based on a penis, but only loosely so: the bulbous head is crooked to one side, and it has a smooth curve, probably so it doesn’t scratch the skin when it’s inserted.

Thorin rinses it, but doesn’t dab it against the towel, so it won’t come out fuzzy with fabric lint. She goes back to bed, falling on her front this time, tucking the toy under the pillow to use after the nap. Maybe she’ll feel more like it, then. When her mind is less tired of repeating ‘Good night, love’ over and over.

* * *

 

She wakes up with a start, her phone buzzing insistently against the wooden table. Thorin turns it off, and hides her face in the pillow once more, trying to remember what she just dreamed of. There’s a lingering feeling of regret and relief, as if the story her dreams told were about someone else besides her, in another body, in another age. Waking up brings her back to the same old life, same old problems, and she sighs with tiredness.

Squinting at the phone screen, she sees that it’s barely noon, and checks if there’s any new emails about work. Nothing. It’s normal for her to be idle for a while, especially when the songs are being applied to the client’s material, then they might be sent back for tweaking a few days later. But she’d appreciate something to entertain her clouded mind right now.

The toy brushes against her fingers beneath the pillowcase, but she pushes it back under there until she really feels the mood to use it. She lazily gets up, puts on a soft pair of sweatpants, and goes to the kitchen to grab a pear from the fridge to munch on while playing the guitar. Maybe composing will get her mind off it for a while.

Wishing Dwalin was there to help with (or criticize) her singing, Thorin tries to add lyrics to the melody, and they come off surprisingly mellow for the frustration she’s feeling. Sighing, she props her phone on the little tripod on top of her work desk and records herself playing and singing anyway. Those who follow her social media usually enjoy the more melodic, sweet songs she writes, so she posts it for them.

After recording a few songs from other composers, she carefully props the guitar back against its metal stand, and goes to the bedroom with her phone. It’s before 4PM, but the sluggish feeling from a sleepless night is still weighing on her muscles. Yawning and pushing her sweatpants off, she unlocks her phone and lies sideways on her bed. There’s a bunch of notifications for reactions and comments to the newly uploaded video, but her innards seem to jump when she sees that there’s a new message from Bilbo.

> Bilbo: Good afternoon! (•ө•)♡

There’s a picture of Bilbo’s unnatractive cat sleeping on top of its owner’s thighs. At least Thorin assumes it’s Bilbo from the short skirt, round belly, curvaceous legs, and amount of freckles present.

> Bilbo: Gollum seems to hate me, but will always climb on my lap when I’m taking a nap.

Thorin closes her eyes for a second, and blows out a long breath. Bilbo is adorable. Thorin doesn’t want to be rude to her, and prematurely end their friendship. If continuing being friends is what Bilbo wants, that is. It could be that hobbits are just very verbal about their fondness of others. And truly, Thorin’s chest hurts when she thinks of cutting ties with Bilbo because…

… Because she’s probably infatuated with Bilbo.

> Thorin: You should enjoy it while it’s sleeping, then. At least that’s what my sister tells me about her sons.

  


> Bilbo: Lol. I try, but even sleeping, he seems to huff for me to keep my hands away from him.
> 
> Bilbo: Anyway, are you having a nice day? I didn’t want to send you a message and wake you up accidentally.

  


> Thorin: I didn’t sleep too well, but I managed to compose something earlier.
> 
> Thorin: And don’t worry about waking me up, I try to be awake early in the morning. (Also, I leave my phone on mute, usually.)

  


> Bilbo: Oh, no! If you’re feeling tense, you can come by the Parlor, and I’ll give you a shoulder massage.
> 
> Bilbo: Composing, huh? What do I have to do to get to listen to an original Thorin composition? ;)

Sliding a rough hand against her face, Thorin laughs. How can she be blushing at this? Bilbo’s words are hitting critical spots in Thorin’s body, making her feel as if on a rollercoaster: unstable, floaty, doubtful, hopeful.

> Thorin: You just have to ask. Although I wouldn’t say no to anything else you want to give me.

She’s never been this flirtatious before. And certainly not with such needy-sounding words. Thorin’s sleepiness couldn’t have vanished faster, and suddenly she feels ready to run a marathon, or just wheeze like she’s been through one. While trying to calm herself down, Thorin pastes a link to the video she just posted so Bilbo can watch it.

> Bilbo: Is this it? May I follow you, too? :)

  


> Thorin: Of course.

Unexpectedly, she really wants to know if Bilbo liked the song, even though she didn’t care much about it a few minutes ago.

> Bilbo: OHHHH MY GOODNESS!!! This is gorgeous! ♥
> 
> Bilbo: It’s such a romantic and heartfelt song! I’m in love!
> 
> Bilbo: I’d buy an album, if you ever released one, you know. ;)

Thorin stretches on the bed, a sudden warm feeling traveling through her limbs. It’s cool enough lately for her to keep sheets and a thin blanket on the bed, and so her feet dig under the untidy bunch of fabric on the end of the bed, her toes wriggling.

> Thorin: Thank you. :) I’ll remember that if I ever do release one.

She hoists her legs up and crosses them, and notices how her right foot is restlessly jumping up and down.

> Thorin: By the way, the toy is here. I kind of expected it to take longer to arrive.

  


> Bilbo: That was really fast, yeah! What do you think of it?

Thorin pulls the purple toy from under the pillow, and looks at it for a second. It’s quite a dry-looking surface, and while she was going about the day, she felt no inclination or sign of getting wet to play with it. That reminds her of the lubricant and condoms she bought, so she leans to the side of her bed to dig through the disposable remains of the parcel on the floor. The lack of sleep probably made her forget about those, and she’s thankful she remembered now, otherwise she’d have binned it all. They’re under one of the plastic air pillows that was put inside the box so that the toy wouldn’t get damaged in the trip, inside a carefully-closed bag. Thorin puts them on the bed beside her to look at later.

> Thorin: Well, it doesn’t look terrible. It’s smaller than the picture made it seem, which is nice. I haven’t tried it yet.

  


> Bilbo: I’m glad! I think our tastes are similar. I wouldn’t want to buy a toy that looks like a giant cock, or anything like that, lol.

Huffing out a laugh, Thorin imagines Bilbo’s wrinkled nose while handling a floppy penis-shaped toy.

> Bilbo: Today I can’t walk you through it, but I wanted you to use it when the mood hits.
> 
> Bilbo: I’d like you to have it inside you when you come, and as soon as possible after (or while)  coming, pump it inside however feels best.
> 
> Bilbo: You can have the vibration on or off, it doesn’t matter much. But try to use it inside closer to the finish.
> 
> Bilbo: I’ll log off for a while, now, so have fun! ~♥

  


> Thorin: Thanks, I’ll try.

Her naked legs have closed together during her brief chat with Bilbo, and now there’s a faint pulse in the middle of her thighs. Thorin drops her phone on the mattress, the toy resting on top of her stomach, and she picks up the small transparent bag with the small bottles of lube and condoms. Not having much patience or care, she rips it open roughly, the small zigzag of plastic flying off to the side. She decides to try the toy now, since she’s feeling curious, and it’ll be nice to occupy her time with something productive until she can talk to Bilbo again.

Thorin sits up, and peels one of the condom packets open with her teeth, regretting it slightly when the odd taste of latex stays in her mouth. It seems to be of a different brand than the one Bilbo used in the parlor, since it’s a different color and smell. She brings the toy up, covers it with the condom, and finally tests the speeds. They’re basically the same as the egg-shaped toy Bilbo tested on her, with varying patterns and intensities. Well, there’s nothing to it, then.

The toy is pleasantly tingly enough, especially after it’s lubricated, but Thorin still needs something to think of. She feels absurdly guilty, but her hands go directly to the chat from last night with Bilbo, and she scrolls to the pictures she’s been sent. Just one glance is enough for her to sigh, close her eyes, and imagine Bilbo there with her.

Thorin feels herself pulsating at the mental picture of the hobbit’s lips on her, giggling, and with one hand down her own ginger curls. Underneath her panties, she slides the wet toy down her labia, her thigh muscles jumping when it vibrates close to her clit, and nudges it carefully inside her opening. Her left hand grabs and drops another pillow behind her back so she can curl herself easier, and Thorin uses her free hand to rub circles against her wetness.

Bilbo would probably tell her to take it slow, but it surprises her how easily the head of the toy pops in. It’s strange to have something reaching in so deep, and she’s suddenly awfully aware of a part of herself that she didn’t pay much attention to before this. The vibration, now coming from the inside, tickles, so she fiddles blindly with the controls to turn it off. At least while she gets used to the feeling of having something in there. Even in doctor appointments, or in her daily life, taking care of her hygiene, she felt that it wasn’t a really sensitive bit at all.

Slowly, she slides it all the way in, just to see how far it goes, and then back out. Thorin can mainly feel the lopsided head poking upwards, and oddly enough, it’s faintly making her feel like she needs to pee. Hoping it’s not going to actually make her wet the bed, she checks if it stays in place (and pointing up against her G-spot) so she can leave it in there like Bilbo said, and won’t have to worry about it slipping out. As it turns out, her panties actually help to block the toy’s exit, and Thorin allows herself rest back against the pillows and let her fingers do the job.

In her mind’s eye, Bilbo would be holding her olive thighs open, her clever fingers pressing inside, while she pushes her entire jaw down to wetly lap at Thorin’s clit. With that, only minutes afterwards, Thorin’s already clenching around the toy, nearly finishing. Imagining Bilbo rutting against her own hand while pressing her freckled face against Thorin’s coarse hair is enough to tip her over the edge.

Her held breath leaves in shallow hisses while she holds her thighs closed again, and lets the pleasurable involuntary twitches wreck her body. Thorin’s brain vaguely registers that this orgasm is stronger than last night’s, spiking much higher, and for longer. Luckily, she remembers Bilbo’s request, and blearily moves her wet hand back between her thighs to pump the toy.

Even though Thorin read the scientific facts on the G-spot, she didn’t expect much to happen. But after the first few seconds her brain blanks out with bliss, and she gasps out high moans with every pump, her chest heaving. Not even the thought of her neighbours listening to the racket makes her able to lower her voice, or stop the loud tell-tale sounds of her wrist slapping against soaked skin. The faint feeling of wanting to empty her bladder is there, but it’s as if it turned to a good sensation. It’s decidedly not the same sort of pleasure she feels while playing with her clit, since it’s almost too sharp, but she digs her heels against the mattress from the thrill.

Thorin’s muscles tremble with effort, and she drops back against the bed, dragging the sticky toy out, and her equally sullied hand upwards. Panting, she remembers Bilbo’s face while playing with her multi-limbed toy, and now she’s equipped to understand it. Thorin should send a message about it, but first she gets up to dispose of the used condom, and cleans herself. With her knees wobbling, she stands in front of the mirror, trying to understand the magnitude of what she just felt. With Bilbo’s help, Thorin found a whole new side of her own sexuality. She wants to thank the hobbit, in some way.

After washing her underwear, Thorin feels quite energetic, and goes back to her bedroom to record a voice message to Bilbo.

‘Hi, uh. I was wondering if you have some free time later today? I want to see- um, talk to you.’ Thorin’s proud that her voice doesn’’t waver much, even though she stumbled over words. It doesn’t even cross her mind that she can delete the message, and so she sends it, errors and all.

* * *

‘Come on up!’ Bilbo says through the intercom.

For once, Thorin walks up the stairs to the Azalea Parlor feeling calm about the idea of being touched, as she doesn’t think a session will happen this late at night, but she can feel the wish to talk to Bilbo bubbling up her throat. Talking to people Thorin has a crush on always leads to mistakes, but she knows that she wants to at least be closer to Bilbo, even if it doesn’t lead to anything.

Bilbo opens the door, smiling. ‘Hiya, Thorin! Welcome.’ Immediately, she takes Thorin by the arm, and brings her to the empty desk. ‘Here, I wanted to show you something before we go anywhere.’

She pulls the chair closer to the desk, and pats on it for Thorin to sit, before bouncing on her own chair. After a few clicks, Thorin recognizes the public national insurance website layout, and looks up at Bilbo’s face to see if it’s okay to be seeing this.

The unnamable-colored eyes meet Thorin’s, and she grins. ‘It’s okay. We don’t have to exchange fluids if you don’t want us to, but at least with this, there’s a bit of safety in case we have an accident.’ Bilbo slides the mouse over to Thorin, and she looks down, admiring once more the difference in size and color of their hands.

‘Alright…’ Thorin squints to read the small letters and proceeds to click on all tabs of Bilbo’s profile. It says her last check-up was just one month ago, and that she’s had all sorts of blood exams for most sexually-transmitted infections. She barely has to look at the results, they’re all ‘negative,’ but she skims through them all, just so Bilbo’s request of sharing her medical record is granted.

‘There we go! Sorry, I barely said hello to you. How’s it going?’ Bilbo touches Thorin’s fuzzy forearm, and props her chin on her own other round hand to listen.

Taking a deep breath, and another one (Thorin had forgotten how sweet and rich Bilbo’s smell is), she pushes the mouse away, but is careful not to dislodge the silky hand on top of her arm.

‘I’m well. I managed to rest today.’ A pause. She doesn’t want to dump everything that’s crossed her mind onto Bilbo’s lap. ‘And you?’

Bilbo clicks her tongue, and rests the hand that was below her chin on Thorin’s skin, beside the other hand. ‘I’m alright. Do you want me to massage your shoulders? I thought that was why you came today.’ She looks at Thorin with worried eyes.

‘Oh, I don’t think I’m tense. I can wait until our next session.’ Thorin says, smiling, and puts a hand over Bilbo’s fingers. ‘I suppose I just wanted to talk.’

The small palms turn up to grip Thorin’s thick fingers. ‘I see!’ Bilbo looks at the clock on the computer screen, and turns her eyes mischievously back to look at Thorin. ‘In that case… what do you think of going out for dinner with me? Have you eaten yet?’

With her brain still working out possible outcomes of saying yes to the proposal, Thorin feels her mouth opening to blurt it out faster than she can stop herself. ‘That would be nice. I haven’t eaten yet.’

‘Great! I’ll go get changed in the back room, could you wait here for a second?’ Bilbo’s turning the computer off, restless fingers tapping on the keys, and sprints out to the reception room to dress.

Thorin sits sideways on the red velvet chair, still trying to understand what’s about to happen. Is this about to be a date? Maybe she should’ve dressed better for this, but how could she have known?

Nervously, she grabs the phone from her back pocket, and checks the family chat just to have something to do while waiting for Bilbo to return. Frerin is talking about having landed the modeling job he wanted, and Thorin leaves an honest congratulatory message for him. After scrolling all the way up to the last text she read, her thumb dims the screen, and she looks around the room.

She always flies by this room. The few times she sat in the velvet chair she had been accompanied by Bilbo, or Bluebell, so Thorin allows herself to really look this time, since she’s alone. In front of the desk, against the wall opposite the main door, there’s a classy wood sideboard with health pamphlets propped on swirly metal stands. On the other side of the room, there’s a comfortable pale sofa, some magazines tucked on a rack, and a jug with water and plastic cups on a small table next to it. The floor’s made of long, dark wood boards, and it looks like it’s regularly polished. It’s interesting to Thorin how it looks like the waiting room at a doctor's office, but the ones upstairs look so obviously not-medical.

‘Sorry I took so long!’ Bilbo comes in, putting a red cardigan over top of her slightly see-through white blouse and brown skirt. Thorin’s eyes travel over her, admiring this adorable person with great taste in clothes, and feeling relieved that she isn’t underdressed in comparison. After draping a yellow purse on her left shoulder, Bilbo supports her weight on the wall to push a finger inside  matching red shoes and pull the fabric over her ankles. ‘Do you like sushi? There’s a great place two blocks away.’

‘I do, yes.’ Thorin feels like a rusty machine while getting up to join Bilbo, her joints creaking and restrained, the movements of her arms too awkward. But her chest is bursting with excitement at accompanying Bilbo on a meal. It’s most likely outside the masseuse-client contract, she thinks, but Thorin would not deny the opportunity to be with her outside the Parlor.

‘Great! I’m starving, let’s go!’ Thorin’s ushered out the door right before Bilbo snakes a hand back inside the room to turn the lights off. After locking everything, even the outside gate, Bilbo points out the direction the restaurant is in. It’s not the same one Thorin goes to, near the street market, since that one is West, instead of South, where they’re headed.

Thorin sticks her awkward, fidgety hands in her jacket pockets, and walks alongside Bilbo, who’s leading the way. This is the first time she’s been led anywhere as an adult. And the first time she’s agreed to an impromptu date like this. She decides that this is a night for many first times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things might start to get a bit angsty, but I promise that I won't make the characters suffer before a happy ending :P


	7. Chapter 7

The street is moderately quiet, it being 8 p.m. and past the usual rush hour. The neighborhood around Pink Azalea Parlor is just as peaceful as in Ered Luin, where Thorin lives. But the closer they get to the Lhûn river, the busier and more unsavoury the streets become. The Grey docks are just a few kilometers away, where there are fewer houses, and more warehouses on every block.

‘Slow down, Thorin! I can’t keep up with your strides.’ Bilbo’s amused voice comes from somewhere behind the dwarf’s back.

Once they had walked down to the main avenue, just one block away from the Parlor, Bilbo pointed out that their destination is straight ahead, and Thorin had marched on ahead. Now, at Bilbo’s call, Thorin stops in her tracks, wanting to get a full view of the hobbit before she comes close, but is rewarded with having her arm grabbed tightly instead. Bilbo continues walking, taking Thorin with her, looking ahead and smiling to herself.

‘Is something funny?’ Thorin asks, lowering her chin to speak, trying to make her voice quieter and sweeter. She remembers Dís feeling offended at her tone many times when they linked arms like this, while walking to the market.

Bilbo scoffs, and kneads her fingers against Thorin’s leather jacket. ‘No, no… I’m just thinking of some nice things, don’t mind me.’ Her voice is dreamy, and Thorin wishes she could ask what those things are. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve gone out on a date like this.’

‘O-oh, yes?’ Thorin feels an excited flutter in her belly at the confirmation of it being a date.

They stop for a red pedestrian light, and Thorin looks down at her boots, thinking about what to say next. Bilbo seems to be patiently waiting for a response, and from the corner of her eye, Thorin sees that the freckled cheeks are pinched in a lasting smile. Maybe it would be acceptable to compliment her clothes, since this is, in fact, a date.

Thorin breathes in, filling herself up with the courage to speak, when the red light starts flashing slowly. A Man riding on a motorcycle slowly crosses their path, and takes a left, going back on the path they just trod.

 _‘A dyke and a hobbit whore!’_ he yells after a wolf whistle, braking even further to look closely at Bilbo’s legs from under his lifted visor.

‘HEY!’ Thorin’s gut reaction makes her lurch forward, fists clenched. She’s already picturing herself on top of the man, pushing him below his motorcycle, and ripping his helmet off to punch his nose, when she feels her arm being tugged back.

While she looks to her right side, where Bilbo’s telling her to stay put repeatedly, the man accelerates, his unpleasant laughter audible above the loud motor. Thorin swallows, a bit ashamed of having lost control. She’s not usually a target for this sort of aggression on the streets, since she’s not a soft, beautiful woman. And even though her sister and brother are definitely handsome, it just seems that Men aren’t interested in yelling at dwarrows in public like this. Being called a dyke isn’t new to her, but her temper boils at what he had called Bilbo.

‘I’m sorry, Bilbo. I didn’t... ‘ Thorin is being led by the arm across the street, since her legs stopped responding at the adrenaline rush. ‘I’m sorry. Do you want me to…’

Looking up, she sees a sushi restaurant sign, and Bilbo stops them a few paces before the door, where there are a few people talking and smoking on the curb. Thorin feels her hand being squeezed, and finally raises her head from the ground to look up at Bilbo’s face.

Slowly, the veil of anxiety is receding, unmuting the faint street sounds, and Thorin is able to understand Bilbo’s words. ‘It’s okay. Let’s just go inside, and talk there while we eat. Don’t worry, Thorin. Can you hear me?’

‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’ Thorin’s eyes focus on the subtle pinch right above Bilbo’s lips: she’s never seen this happen before. It’s upsetting, and it makes her throat tighten even further.

‘You have nothing to be sorry for, love. Let’s go.’ Bilbo’s eyes are shining, her brows furrowed.

Distantly, Thorin notices that the minor deafness that came from rage had become a sense of hyperfocus now that the danger was passed, so she finds herself unable to look away from Bilbo’s face while she requests a table from the host. Her arm is tugged, and Thorin follows the hobbit to the back of the restaurant, barely aware that there are other people in the room, but oddly very conscious of being watched by them.

‘Here, sit next to me?’  Bilbo crawls across the floor cushions and sits on the left side of the low table, facing the back wall of the establishment. She taps the spot next to her, and Thorin takes a moment to blink and lower herself down and take a seat.Thorin manages to order a glass of water from the waiter after Bilbo squeezes her bicep, and once the person’s gone, she takes a deep breath and shakes her head to see if the fuzziness will disappear.

Looking dazedly around herself, she sees that Bilbo ordered a private booth, probably meant to be used by more than 6 people at a time. The olive green wall behind her head extends to the ceiling, and there’s only one empty table to her right, with a small sliver of the kitchen is visible beyond. It’s thankfully, wonderfully secluded, and Thorin feels her senses going back to normal.

Small pinkish fingers are gripping her arm, and Thorin follows the limb up to Bilbo’s face. Their eyes meet, and Bilbo’s worried eyebrow wrinkle smooths after a second or two. Her shoulders visibly drop a few centimeters, and she turns her head to stare ahead.

‘Are you okay?’ Thorin asks once she remembers she has a mouth.

Bilbo scoffs for the second time tonight, albeit much more sarcastically. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry I dragged you here.’ She sniffs, and bumps her head back on the green wall. ‘I was afraid you were going to be hit by a car... the light was still red for us back there.’ Thorin sees the tiny folds beneath Bilbo’s chin appear while she’s speaking.

She hadn’t noticed the traffic, being so furious about the motorcycle man. ‘I didn’t even see the light. I just wanted to hit him for calling you… that.’

‘I’m used to it.’ Bilbo says, still looking ahead. She sighs, and picks up a menu that’s lying on the table. ‘In the end, I’m just glad nothing bad happened to you. Let’s order some food, and possibly some alcohol to wash it down. What do you think?’

Thorin smiles slowly at Bilbo’s wink. Maybe this is a matter that should be talked about more carefully, after they’re calmer and less hungry.

They take a moment to look at the menu together, even though there is a second copy right in front of them, and order a big serving of salmon sushi. Bilbo makes sure to ask the waiter to bring all the entrées, too. Thorin takes Bilbo’s suggestion of drinking cachaça with her, since she’s never tried it before.

Once the waiter is gone, Thorin slumps back in her seat, and watches Bilbo reach into her purse for a small round mirror to retouch her makeup. There isn’t much to fix, so to speak, in Thorin’s view. Their eyes meet through the mirror after a second.

‘Did you have a chance to try the toy, after all?’ Thorin can see the corner of Bilbo’s eyes crinkling while she says it.

‘Uh… yeah, I did.’ She looks down at her wide hands, trying to remember anything before the last few hours.

‘Oh?’ Bilbo closes the ornate mirror, and packs her lipstick and pencils away inside the purse on her left. She reaches below the table to bring her own knees up to rest folded against her chest. ‘Do tell! Did you like it? Did you remember to do your homework?’ Bilbo is leaning forward, her voice small and curious.

As much as Thorin wants to let go, and just talk about light-hearted things, to see Bilbo’s face pinching from mirth instead of worry, this feels wrong. Beneath the inquisitive and sexually aggressive mask, Bilbo is clearly tense, and pretending to have forgotten that anything bad happened. Thorin has to control herself - which isn’t a thing she’s particularly good at - and wait until the tension seeps away and they can chat truthfully. And thus, she tries to play along.

‘I did. It was quite amazing. I had never felt anything like that before.’ Bilbo perks up at this, and her eyes roam Thorin’s face while she speaks, stopping at her mouth several times. ‘ I actually wanted to thank you for introducing me to all of these new techniques. You’re a great teacher.’

‘Ah! There’s no need for that.’ Bilbo laughs, and rubs her right palm shakily against her face, apparently forgetting she has makeup on. ‘I’m happy that you’re learning something new and useful, though.’ She rests her chin on her knees, looking at Thorin’s face through thoughtful eyes. After a small smile, Bilbo blinks, and raises her head to whisper right below Thorin’s round ear, ‘And, I have to admit, I’m excited to see what we can do in bed together, with this newly acquired knowledge of yours.’

Thorin can feel a warm rush rising through her neck, but manages a small smile as a response, once Bilbo leans back out of her personal space. Not that there’s much of a separation between them, Thorin notices: Bilbo’s perched so close to Thorin that her naked thigh is brushing Thorin’s arm. The air is filled with food smells, but in that private bubble Bilbo created, Thorin can finally smell her sweet and salty natural scent, and sighs happily.

Both of them jump when the waiter returns with trays full of fried dumplings, egg rolls, and two wide glasses with their drinks, plus crushed lime wedges and ice. Bilbo even sits up on her knees to watch the waiter fill their table with dark elegant earthenware plates, after recollecting herself from the surprise. They both thank the black-haired elf while they’re getting up from the low table, and get a satisfied smile from them in return.

‘Cheers!’ Bilbo says, knocking the thick base of her glass against Thorin’s, and taking a hearty sip. Thorin follows suit, and is surprised at how fresh and complex the taste of the drink is. Before she gets a chance to comment on it, however, Bilbo’s already sticking a juicy dumpling in her mouth, and gesturing for Thorin to do the same. She hums through her mouthful, and Thorin suddenly feels quite hungry. It’s amazing how heartily Bilbo eats, being such a small person.

In no time, there’s a neat pile of plates on Bilbo’s side, which she organized herself after having eaten her half of the appetizers. Thorin’s still slowly chewing her way through the egg rolls, when Bilbo clicks on a button to call for the waiter, and asks for a refill on her drink. How did she finish such a strong drink so quickly all by herself?

‘Gosh, I can’t wait for the fish. These _barely_ covered the walls of my stomach!’ Bilbo laughs. ‘Did you like the drink? They have beer and wine here, if you want to order something different, too.’

‘It’s not bad at all! It packs a punch, though.’ Thorin says, wiping her stubbly cheek with the back of her hand.

‘It does! That’s why I like it, other drinks don’t even make me blush.’ Bilbo hugs her knees again, and Thorin watches as she wriggles her toes beneath the table. Her ginger curls are matted against the skin of her pale feet, and Bilbo’s fingers come down to comb through them.

‘Most dwarrows drink beer, but I’m more of a wine person, myself.’

‘Oh, yeah? Next time we go out, you should take me to drink your favorite wine, then.’ Bilbo says, smiling.

Thorin swallows a great gulp of cachaça, burning her throat slightly. ‘Yes. I will.’

The waiter comes back with a wide round plate of fish organized in enticing half-circles, garnished with lettuce, colorful ground radish, ginger root, cucumber, and spices. Thorin’s mouth is watering, even though she feels that the dumplings padded her stomach quite nicely already. To her left, Bilbo’s eyes only widen when the waiter places a hot plate full of buttered mushrooms in between them. Thorin’s the only one to thank the waiter, this time.

At the speed that Bilbo’s stuffed half of the tiny mushrooms into her mouth, Thorin can’t stop the grin forming on her face. Bilbo notices, and covers her mouth, embarrassed.

‘I just blanked out!’ she says in a guilty tone, and Thorin’s laughing.

‘You can have my half. Press the button to call the waiter, we should order more of these.’ Thorin says, placing a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, trying to console her. She happily takes Thorin up on her offer, and polishes the rectangular dish clean.

Bilbo eats her half of the fish much slower, but when the waiter comes for Thorin to order more mushrooms, she also asks for a third refill on her drink. Her cheeks are a bit rosy already, and Thorin decides not to drink much more, so she can take them home in case Bilbo gets too drunk.

After the fourth serving of mushrooms is (quickly) downed, Bilbo takes a long chug from her glass, sighs, and rests back on the wall. ‘The guy was right, I suppose.’

‘What guy?’ Thorin rests her chopsticks horizontally on her dish, and rearranges her poorly-circulating legs more comfortably. She waits, takes a sip of her drink, which clinks softly from the few small ice cubes still floating in it.

‘The guy on the bike. I do have sex for money, don’t I?’ Bilbo looks away, her left hand fiddling clumsily with the metal hooks on her bag.

Thorin takes a deep breath, and turns her body towards BIlbo. ‘It’s not a bad thing, though. You’re brilliant at what you do.’

‘It isn’t that hard.’ Bilbo shakes her head slowly, still having it propped back on the wall, and on the last swing, she ends up facing Thorin. ‘I’m not even _serving_ men anymore. They’re most of our clientele, and I’m not… working with them.’ Her words are a bit sluggish, as if she’s sleepy.

‘How come?’ Thorin doesn’t want to push her, but it seems that this subject is something Bilbo wants to talk to her about.

Bilbo makes a face, and absentmindedly scratches at her neck. ‘I’m sick of them. My last client was aggressive, and we had to up the security in the building after we stopped serving him. He started stalking me; he found me in a restaurant with another person, threatened me, and yelled at me. Thankfully he was taken away by the police, but… you know.’ She swallows, and sniffles.

‘Was he arrested? Does he still stalk you?’ Thorin can’t help but get agitated. She wants to look back at the restaurant and see if there’s a hooded creature staring at them from a corner.

‘He stopped, thank goodness. Apparently, he had a pretty dirty record, and was arrested, yeah.’ Bilbo takes another sip of her drink, and plays with the straw, poking at a lime with it. ‘I’m just… not hot for them, anymore. It shouldn’t be a problem, because my work isn’t about me, but it- it kind of ruins it, too.’

‘Ruins it? What does?’ Thorin isn’t following her train of thought, and there are probably a million things going through her head now. Bilbo’s face is scrunched up, her eyes getting a bit red.

Bilbo swallows again, and looks ahead to speak. ‘Since the clients are exclusive, and I’m meant to bring them a feeling of intimacy, it means I’m basically their girlfriend, doesn’t it?’ She looks down at her round stomach, and pulls her brown skirt over her crossed legs. ‘I can’t be a man’s girlfriend anymore, if I don’t like being with them at all.’

Thorin opens her mouth to agree, but Bilbo cuts in, not noticing that Thorin wanted to speak. She drops her freckled hands heavily on her thighs. ‘I was the one who created this program, and so many people have learned from it. I’m happy working there.’ She turns suddenly to look at Thorin’s face, her face looking adorably angry at nothing in particular. ‘I was even happier when I lucked out and you chose me as your masseuse. I’m usually not jealous, but I’d be so angry if Bluebell got you. You’re so…’ Bilbo sighs hugely, and leans in to rest her cheek on Thorin’s arm and chest. ‘Lovely? Good? _Hot?_ I don’t even know. I just really like you.’

Thorin’s cheeks burn bright while Bilbo nuzzles against her open jacket, mussing her sweet-smelling hair. ‘I uh, I _really_ like you, too. I couldn’t have chosen a better person to take care of me.’ She brings her hand up to cup Bilbo’s head, indulging in the silky feeling of the springy curls.

Bilbo sniffles wetly, brings a hand up to rub against her face, accidentally bumping Thorin’s breast on the way. ‘Oh… gosh.’ She hiccups, and lets her hands drop to Thorin’s denim-clad thighs. ‘Men are nasty. I hate how they see me as an easy-to-get hobbit feast. But really, we shouldn’t spare them the time. They don’t deserve it.’

Turning her head from side to side, Bilbo finally looks up at Thorin. Her mascara is flaking, tiny streaks and black particles painting her already colorfully dotted skin, and her eyes shining and a bit swollen, but she’s slowly breaking into a smile.

‘Fuck them.’

‘I thought you said you’d rather not.’ Thorin says, reaching for a napkin from the tray of amenities and spice bottles and handing it to Bilbo.

She snorts, and covers her runny nose with the soft paper. After blowing it, Bilbo starts laughing again, and Thorin smiles sheepishly at her. Sighing happily, Bilbo sits up, and takes the little round mirror from her bag again, and wipes the underneath of her eyes clean.

‘I did. I’d rather have you.’

Once Bilbo finishes rearranging her fringe, she relaxes back against the wall again, and looks at Thorin’s lips. Something in Thorin’s gut tells her it’s a sign that Bilbo will reach forward and touch lips with her, kiss her how she’s dreamt of it happening before. So she licks her suddenly dry lips, and watches Bilbo’s mouth, waiting for it to get closer.

From her peripheral vision, Thorin sees that Bilbo’s eyes snap up: the waiter is back, and hovering a few paces away from their booth. Thorin sits up, feeling her stomach sink, and as if a cold liquid is dripping on her spine from embarrassment and awkwardness.

Since they’re finished eating, and the restaurant’s kitchen is closing, they get up to pay the bill at the cash register. Thorin’s mind is reeling, afraid that she’s made things uncomfortable between them, for expecting to be kissed.

‘You should let me pay the bill tonight. I was the one who invited you here, after all.’ Bilbo’s reaching into a tiny battered fabric purse for her card. Thorin sees an illustration in between the many cards of a dark-skinned lady, her white hair woven with ivy, tall trees all around her. Before she has the chance to ask what the picture is about, Thorin reaches into her own pocket to argue about paying for her half.

‘It’s not fair, let me…’ Thorin’s fiddling with her own black leather wallet, when Bilbo places her soft palms on top of it. It makes Thorin’s rough fingers sweat against the material, the closeness of this act.

‘Fair, shmair. You can pay for the bill when you ask me out next.’ Bilbo smiles naughtily. ‘I want to taste your favorite wine, remember? I’ll keep pestering you for it.’

Thorin sighs, and packs the wallet back in her pocket. But once she lets her hands relax next to her body, Bilbo hooks her right arm around Thorin’s left, and waits for their turn to talk to the cashier.

They step outside after thanking the staff for the lovely meal. The night air is chilly, and Bilbo shivers and squirms her legs. It’s amazing how her drunkenness vaporized so quickly; her cheeks are barely pink now. Thorin checks her phone for the time, and it’s almost midnight.

‘Uh, do you live close to the Parlor? May I walk you home?’ Thorin asks, not wanting Bilbo to go home alone so late at night.

Bilbo’s closing her cardigan, and rubbing her palms against her arms. ‘I actually either get a ride home with coworkers, or take the bus. I could call for a cab, too.’

Feeling bold, Thorin approaches the hobbit, and encircles her shoulders with an arm, as a way to share warmth. ‘I can drive you home. My house is just ten minutes away by foot.’

After a full-body shiver, Bilbo looks up and smiles. ‘I’d like that, actually. Thank you.’

Thorin makes sure to walk at Bilbo’s pace this time, since she’s being clung to, and they’re sharing a peaceful silence on their way there. Bilbo only points and makes comments about the quality of the food in small restaurants at times, and Thorin tries to make a mental note of the ones Bilbo seems to approve of, so she can come back to eat a meal. Bilbo’s taste for food seems to be excellent.

At Thorin’s building, Bilbo stops to appreciate the front garden. ‘Oh, that red-jasmine is blooming beautifully! I wonder if I could have some seeds…’

Thorin had no idea what kind of tree it was before Bilbo said so. ‘I’ll ask the janitor when I see him,’ She promises, while taking Bilbo by the hand downstairs to the garage.

The hobbit wiggles her shoulders and legs against the soft fabric of Thorin’s car seat, seemingly gratified by the warmth and comfort. She explains the way to her house, but Thorin inputs the address on her phone so she won’t get lost. Thorin turns the motor on, and music starts playing automatically from the speakers. Bilbo intercepts her hand on its way to turn the radio off, saying she’d like to hear more of Thorin’s great taste in music.

‘I’m becoming a big fan of yours, Thorin. Really, I listened to most of your videos yesterday!’ Bilbo says, crossing her legs and letting the one on top bounce with the beat.

Feeling her chest puff out with happiness, Thorin lets a small smile escape. ‘Thank you.’

The car brakes for a red light, and her head turns to look at Bilbo, as if pulled by a magnet. She’s looking out the window, arms crossed in front of her stomach, foot still bouncing. Thorin’s eyes roam of from their own volition: up from the red shoes, to the smooth curves of her calves, softly-jiggling thighs, ridden-up skirt. Thorin feels her throat get dry, but her gaze continues to trace a path upwards, to delicate fingers clutching her cardigan, thin white blouse (through which she can see the imprint of a lacy bra,) round jaw, long freckled nose, light lashes batting calmly, and wispy curls surrounding a leaf-shaped ear. Looking ahead once more, Thorin tries to concentrate on the music, the traffic, anything to make the longing pull inside her chest abate.

‘I wanted to thank you for being so nice to me tonight, Thorin.’

Snapping her head to the side, and then back ahead when the lights turn green, Thorin sees that Bilbo’s still staring out the car window while speaking. ‘Oh. You don’t have to thank me.’

‘But I do. Our conversation calmed me down, and you made me feel safe again.’ Bilbo’s looking at her, she can see from her side-view, and she swallows.

After hearing the GPS app instruction, Thorin replies, still facing forward. ‘You’re welcome. I just wish that disgusting man hadn’t said that. And I have to thank you for having stopped me at that red light, too.’

‘Yeah.’ Bilbo sounds like she has a lot more to say, but remains silent until they reach her house. It isn’t too far from Thorin’s, it took around fifteen minutes by car, but it did seem like a long distance to traverse by foot.

Hobbiton is an old and rich hamlet right in the middle of The Shire, and they have to go across a sentry-box and identify that a resident is in the car on the way in. It makes sense to Thorin why Bilbo complained that her family was pestering her for the will, now that she’s seeing the size of the house Bilbo calls ‘Bag End’ once they climb the slope on Bagshot Row. There are a few other houses on the dead-end lane, but hers is the most opulent by comparison. Thorin has to stop the car a few meters away from her entrance, and so she gets up to accompany Bilbo to the polished wood gate. They walk side by side, and Thorin is impressed by the enormous garden around the building, even if seems a bit unkempt, and there are bird houses and lovely lights scattered on the grass. Thorin isn’t used to hobbit architecture, but she recognizes that the main entrance leads to the basement of the house, even though the house has two floors.

‘This is a stunning house.’ she says, while Bilbo looks for her keys.

‘Thanks. My father built it for my mother. I have to give you a tour _next time_ you come.’

Thorin isn’t the least offended for not being invited in, especially when she thinks that their next session in the Pink Azalea Parlor could be as early as she chooses. There will be enough opportunities to see the hobbit in the future, and that’s enough for her.

Bilbo finds her keys, which are hanging from a chain with many tiny cute characters made from fabric, little bells, and colorful leaf-shaped ribbons. Facing Thorin with her body, she takes a second to look around the street, possibly searching for prying eyes, before pressing her front flush against the dwarf’s.

With a sigh, Bilbo slowly winds her arms around Thorin’s wide torso, below her jacket. ‘This was a great date. I want to do it again, as soon as possible.’

Looking at her eyes, it feels like she means her words, and Thorin can feel her shoulders releasing some tension. Before she can say anything, Bilbo’s stretching up on her toes, and placing a lazy kiss against Thorin’s neck.

At the small whine that comes from Thorin’s throat, Bilbo tilts back, smiling broadly, and sneaks her clever hands up and down the muscled back. They travel curiously, making slow circular patterns on the sides of her stomach, and meet on the front, very carefully and lightly caressing Thorin’s breasts.

‘See you soon, darling.’ Bilbo places a quick peck on Thorin’s cheek, and walks inside her house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter I realize I'm writing a mutual pining, slow burn fic that is wearing a porn mask tbh
> 
> Cachaça is a Brazilian sugar cane alcoholic drink, used to make caipirinha.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter was so SO long, I had to divide it in several bits in editing. This first one is short and sweet, a sort of small family interlude before the next intense session :)

Thorin wakes up groaning, her hair being pulled sharply and jarring her from her nap. Looking around herself, a confused moment passes before the memory of where she is comes back to her. The soft snoring behind her head seems to come from Kíli, who is the culprit laying on her hair while snuggling closer in his sleep.

The pointed corner of an object is poking her right side, so she sticks a hand under herself to pick it up. Realizing it’s her mobile phone, which luckily hasn’t been broken from being crushed beneath her hundred-plus kilograms, she wiggles the numbness from her right-hand fingers to unlock its screen. Squinting at the brightness, Thorin sees that it’s just past 5pm, and there are a few new messages from Bilbo. Slowly, she remembers why she’s napping at Dís’s house. The return of the cramps in her belly, and Bilbo's texts telling her to feel better, make it clear that she came to eat a nice meal and get hugs from her nephews, as she does whenever her period arrives.

Sitting up carefully so as not to wake Kíli up (or leak from her pad), Thorin sneaks as quietly as possible from the dimly-lit guest bedroom. The door to the room straight ahead is open, where Víli is napping with Fíli, curled up around the blond pebble. They barely fit in the child-sized bed together anymore, but it looks dreadfully comfortable from where Thorin’s watching them. Thanking the fact that she’s still wearing thick woolen socks, she continues tip-toeing towards the living room area, which is separated from the corridor by a door.

Once Thorin steps onto the soft carpeting, she’s hit with a warm wave of rich sweet smells. As if pulled forward by the nose, she drags herself towards the source. It’s got the sharpness of cinnamon and green apples, and the softness of fried dough, vanilla, and honey. Stepping through the curtain of plastic beads into the kitchen, the smell of frying oil overpowers the spices.

‘Up already? I knew I’d lure at least _one_ of you by the stomach,’ Dís laughs, standing in front of the oven, one hand resting on her hip. Next to the bubbling oil, there’s a plate lined with kitchen towels where several steaming, crispy apple pies are sitting to cool.

‘I couldn’t smell it from the bedroom.’ Thorin pulls a wood stool from under the table and drops down on it, facing Dís from the corner of the room.

Dís scoops a few golden pies from the pan, and expertly submerges more; they sizzle and spurt oil noisily, but she doesn’t flinch at the danger of being burned. Thorin’s always admired Dís’s competence in the kitchen: she was as skilled with her hands as her older siblings, and had enough interest and patience to learn the craft from their family.

‘Good, that means I won’t have to wash oily-smelling sheets this week,’ Dís says, stepping back from the oven, wiping her forehead with her arm, and taking a good look at Thorin. ‘Are you feeling better? Did the pill work?’

Thorin frowns, yet again trying to remember events from earlier. She took medicine to get rid of a hormone-induced headache, and then proceeded to sleep it off before dinner. The headache was gone, but now there was a hazy, muddled feeling in her brain.

‘Yeah, it did. Thank you.’ She rubs her face roughly with her hands, and quickly combs her hair into a loose bun, tying it in place with a stray lock from her nape.

‘I want to give your hair a trim,’ Dís says while leaning against the white tiles of the wall, waiting for the pies to fry. ‘But I also want to moisturize it, and give it a wash…’

Sighing, Thorin rests her chin on her hand. ‘I’m not in the mood for washing my hair today, Dís. Maybe next week.’ Idly scratching the skin on her jaw, she realizes she’s forgotten to shave today, so it’s most likely quite scruffy at the moment. It’s a wonder Thorin hasn’t forced herself through the discomfort of shaving just for going to dine at Dís’s today, since she usually feels quite vulnerable, judged, and unwanted when her facial hair is growing out. She looks up at her sister, who’s grumbling something about Thorin being a spoilsport, and focuses on her shaved beard, arms, shoulders… although Dís advocates for equality between all genders, body hair has always been a subject of discussion between her and Thorin.

Bilbo didn’t bat an eye when she saw Thorin’s body hair. It grew thickly from her breasts, down to her stomach, and connected to her groin (which she trims occasionally, just so it’s easier to clean.) It’s clearly and purely from the pressure of society that she tries to keep at least her face hairless, a very contrary and ironic concept when seen through dwarven eyes. Her own mother had grown a long strip from her chin and cheeks, which was braided into a neat and complicated pattern, but after her generation, it seemed that social norms had changed dramatically. Whenever Thorin wore shorts to school, she was mocked by her classmates, especially by the elvish and human ones. It was a huge relief to have been seen by Bilbo and not judged, or treated differently, after having grown up being told she wasn’t feminine enough for the way her dwarvish body looked.

Soft footsteps behind her make her return from the long train of thought.

‘Are you up already, little gold nugget?’ Dís says sweetly to Fíli, who’s rubbing his eye, and nodding his head. ‘Do you want to eat?’

‘I’m thirsty,’ he says, and reaches over to pick up a clean glass from the neat tray on the table. Dís takes it from him and pours him cold water from the fridge.

‘Here you go.’ The glass clinks against his nose brace when Fíli tilts back to drink from it.

‘When are you going to take that blue thing off, Fíli?’ Thorin asks, after the boy’s rubbed his pajama sleeve on his mouth.

‘The doctor said that next week it’ll be good.’ Fíli walks past Thorin towards the living room, looking glum.

Looking up at Dís, who has a similar worried expression on her face, Thorin nods and gets up to accompany him. He’s been staring at his own feet all day, and this proves that it wasn’t just Thorin who noticed it.

Fíli’s kneeling on the soft carpet in front of the television, unraveling the cord around a joystick. ‘May I play, too?’ Thorin asks, and sits down on the wide sofa when she gets a nod in return.

The boy dutifully hands his aunt the second joystick, and turns on his favorite adventure game. It’s one that Thorin taught the two pebbles how to play, and from there, Fíli managed to find his own way forward, proudly showing it to her whenever she came to visit.

After a long puzzle in the game, she decides to break the silence and ask him what’s wrong. Expecting the worst, or most likely that it isn’t her business, she sits up to speak.

‘Fíli, is something wrong? You haven’t talked to me at all today. Are you mad at me?’ From the corner of Thorin’s eye, Fíli seems to have frozen in place.

‘No… I thought _you_ were mad at me,’ he says in a tiny wavering voice.

Turning to look at his profile, Thorin frowns, and tries to think of a reason other than her cramps that would have made him assume she’s been acting any differently. ‘What? When, today? That was just me having belly pain, I…’

‘At the hospital, aunt Thorin. I saw your cellphone, and then you walked away, looking angry.’ Fíli pauses the game, and pulls his legs to be crossed in front of him. ‘I shouldn’t have read your messages, and I did. So you seemed mad at me, and I didn’t get to say sorry.’

He looks so tiny, folded up on himself, wearing pajamas printed with planets and stars. Thorin pulls him by the shoulder, so he’s pressed between her arm and her belly. ‘I wasn’t angry at you. You didn’t do anything bad.’ She cranes her neck to look down at his face. ‘Actually, I was just annoyed at your mother for wanting to know who my friend was.’

‘Bilbo?’ Fíli snuggles closer, visibly relieved from the guilt by the frankness of the conversation.

‘Exactly. I don’t mind you knowing about her. But your mother wants me to marry _every_ person I meet, so it’s a bit annoying.’ Thorin is speaking in a quiet voice, so Dís can’t hear above the kitchen appliances’ noises. ‘Can you keep this a secret?’

Fíli nods vigorously, his sleep-frizzled curls flying back and forth. ‘Mom also embarrasses me around my school friends. She thinks I’m in love with all of them.’ His face is serious, and it makes Thorin laugh loudly.

After a wonderfully warm dinner, and an even tastier dessert, Thorin hugs her family for many more seconds than what she usually allows herself, and drives home with two packed plastic containers worth of leftovers.

Once reaching her building, and taking the elevator to her floor, she puts the food away, and draws herself a bath. She brings along a glass of wine, her cellphone (filled with new messages from Bilbo), and her new toy, just in case she wants to try it again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to add a shoutout to mcmanatea's fic "Five Blankets" which subconsciously inspired me to write Dís's personality and interaction with the main plot!
> 
> Also, Dáin's performance video is a nod to Yubiwamonogatari's "Stone Dance" ♥


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for the wonderful and thorough beta work, mcmanatea, mithrilbikini, and hiddenkitty!

> Bilbo: Gosh, it feels like it’s been years since we last saw each other.
> 
> Bilbo: I don’t want to sound creepy, but I really miss you, lol.

Thorin fears for her life for a second: her heart physically hurting for several beats after reading Bilbo’s messages. Since she had got her period the day after they had their dinner date, Thorin decided to take a little time away from the Parlor, both for the sake of hygiene, and to think hard on her feelings for Bilbo. The plan had been to separate her infatuation from the desire she felt, so maybe it would become clearer that she doesn’t have a crush on Bilbo. It obviously hasn’t worked too well.

They’d exchanged messages every single day, talking about all sorts of things: food, toys, family. And each night, Bilbo would send Thorin a picture of the meal she cooked, or a picture of her grouchy cat, or a selfie. Thorin was never asked to reciprocate, but she was slowly planning on a gift to give Bilbo as thanks for her attention and care. She kept a text file in her phone to jot down any usable information from the chats, any preferences Bilbo might have regarding music, food, wine.

> Bilbo: It’s really funny how we haven’t spent much time together in real life, but I’m missing you like this, isn’t it?

Letting out a long breath, Thorin thinks that the most ironic bit in this situation is the fact that during her own quest to sort out her attraction towards Bilbo, she dug a deeper shaft in her own heart for the hobbit to stay. The sheer amount of information and endearing details Thorin has about Bilbo has managed to cement her in Thorin’s life in a ridiculously short time.

> Thorin: _Can I come over today?_
> 
> Bilbo: Yes, please. :) I’ll be in from 6pm on.

The computer clock says it’s just past 4pm, and Thorin can’t fathom waiting two hours to leave the house. Instead, she dives nose-first into work, which is to create the soundtrack for a short art film this time. She tends to get commercial jobs, since that’s an area that has enough money to spare, and properly pay for original music. But this one is special: since it’s for cousin Dáin’s performance video, Thorin made sure to clear her usual schedule to help him. So she has a great reason to focus deeply on composing, and not think about meeting Bilbo.

Time surprisingly (and thankfully) flies by, so once Thorin comes down from her creative high, it’s already been over one and a half hours since she last looked at the time. Feeling accomplished for the research she’s done, Thorin turns off the computer and hops in the shower to get ready to leave.

It truly feels like an age since she’s seen Bilbo, therefore she puts a lot of care into her appearance to greet the hobbit tonight. Thorin chooses comfortable but matching underwear, washes her hair with mint conditioner, air-dries it, and even applies a nice leave-in product that Dís gave her. Not understanding the urge, but following it nonetheless, she puts on a pair of fashionable tights, her favorite band t-shirt, earrings, and her trusty combat boots. It’s silly... this won’t be a continuation of the date they had, but Thorin just wants to look nice for Bilbo.

Once at the Pink Azalea Parlor, Thorin is buzzed in, and Bilbo is the one to open the door. ‘Come inside!’ The hobbit pulls her to the center of the reception room by the hands, and pushes the door closed. ‘By Yavanna, you look fantastic! Those clothes really suit you.’ Bilbo adds, looking up and down Thorin’s body.

Thorin gazes down at herself and mumbles a thank-you, but smiles nonetheless.

‘It’s a pity all I want to do is to take them off.’ Bilbo winks, and drags her towards the stairs by the hand she’s still holding.

This time, Thorin can’t muster the strength to look away from the plump legs climbing the stairs in long strides in front of her. Bilbo is wearing an orange miniskirt which clings to the jiggly curves underneath, no visible pantyhose, and soft leather sandals that slap against the polished wood floor. She leads them into the room they last used, with the sheet-covered sofa, fuzzy carpeting, and large television propped on the wall.

Instead of leading Thorin directly to the bathroom to change, Bilbo just closes the door behind them, and smiles up at her. They stand there, a few paces from the threshold of the dimly-lit room, staring at each other, hands still clasped.

‘Shouldn’t I change into a robe?’ Thorin says, breaking the charged silence.  


Not saying anything, Bilbo’s gaze travels meaningfully around Thorin’s face, stopping at her lips many times. Maybe tonight Thorin won’t have to wear anything different, since they’re not in the room with the proper massage bed. It’s not easy for her to stay quiet and wait for signs to act, but the expression on Bilbo’s round face is fond and patient.

Slowly, Thorin lets her mind wander to their last conversations and interactions, instead of just wallowing in anxiety in the present. She doesn’t want to let herself dwell on it, but Thorin regrets that their kiss was interrupted by the waiter during the date they went to. And she wants to assure Bilbo of her emotions; if she’s having doubts about Thorin’s intentions, it’d be better to talk. It’s as if Bilbo senses the urge that Thorin feels: like she has a bubble of unsaid thoughts coming up from her belly stuck in her throat, and she needs to say at least some of them out loud before she bursts.

‘I didn’t say it earlier today, but I missed you too.’ Thorin sees the freckles around Bilbo’s eyes crinkle with happiness. ‘I very much liked our date. I want to take you out, but I don’t know when. Please let me know when it’s good for you.’

Bilbo sighs and steps forward, making Thorin back up to give her space, never breaking eye contact. They reach the sideboard on the left side of the room, its wood surface prodding the back of Thorin’s thighs. Bilbo gingerly rests her cheek on Thorin’s shirt, and winds her arms around Thorin’s torso.

‘Is this alright?’ Bilbo’s muffled voice vibrates through Thorin’s body.

Relaxing her shoulders, Thorin places her hands on Bilbo’s narrow, squishy back. ‘Yes, it is. But are you feeling unwell? I can come back another day…’ This doesn’t seem normal, and Thorin isn’t sure if it’s a good thing or not.

Bilbo’s chin drags from left to right against Thorin’s breast while she shakes ‘no’ with her head. ‘I wanted to do things differently today. I’ll try to make it more casual, if you’re okay with it. But please tell me if you’re uncomfortable, as usual.’

After a second, Bilbo raises her head, and Thorin can see the sincerity in those dark eyes. ‘I’d like that.’ Her heart is hammering so hard she’s sure that it can be seen through the front of her t-shirt. The proximity between them is unusual and exciting... it feels more intimate than sexual, and she can’t wait to lean down and kiss the hobbit.

After having had her first kiss, so many years ago, Thorin feels like the furor and mystery around kissing had dissipated dramatically. It had become just one more step, one more symbol of closeness and care between her and a partner, instead of the unattainable feat it used to be. But since Bilbo came around, it started featuring heavily in her dreams: how Bilbo would hold her long hair with attentive hands, or grip the tresses passionately and make her gasp, slide their tongues together while making love, synchronize the rhythm of her lips with her clever fingers. But if Bilbo didn’t initiate it, Thorin wouldn’t force it to happen. It was obviously already good enough to be close with her regardless of the type of caress they’d share.

A light breeze, and a ticklish touch against her belly make Thorin twitch. Bilbo’s looking down at her own hands bringing Thorin’s shirt up, exposing her black bra and furred chest. A tense and irrational moment of self-consciousness passes, but Bilbo’s hunger is stamped on her face, and she leans forward, back to her previous position, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur of Thorin’s breasts.

It’s shocking how Bilbo’s mere presence shoots Thorin’s excitement through the roof; just this odd fondle is enough to tug a chord in her core, which she feels pulling directly at her clit. Thorin’s knees want to close and ride the pleasure out, but Bilbo’s naked thigh is in the way (most likely on purpose). She hears Bilbo sniffing at her skin, nuzzling nose and mouth against Thorin’s chest, which should make her laugh, it being such a weird and absurd thing to do, but it only makes the excitement tug sharper, and Thorin feels herself getting wet.

‘Can I touch _you?’_ Thorin manages to ask before doing anything, her mind faintly recalling the encounter they had before their date where Bilbo shared her clean medical records.

Bilbo’s sneaky fingers have already found a way up Thorin’s back and unclasped her bra, which feels both relieving and arousing when it slides off her sensitive nipples. ‘Yes, yes, please, yes.’ Bilbo looks hypnotized, backing Thorin further onto the furniture, her warm hands circling to the front of the wide torso. Looking up to search for signs of discomfort, Bilbo cups Thorin's breasts beneath the loose bra band and lets her half-lidded eyes rest gazing at Thorin’s.

This is nearly as intense as having sex, Thorin thinks dazedly. Her own hands are still hovering uselessly on Bilbo’s shoulders, even though she has the hobbit’s permission for touching. While Thorin’s shivering and arching her body forward into those expert hands, Bilbo smiles and presses their hips together. Through the layers of clothing, and surely, even if they were wearing nothing, Thorin wouldn’t feel anything other than a lovely urgent press, and a surprising sense of connection, since neither of them has a penis.

She’d felt one of her past partner’s genitals against her hip before, but it wasn’t too welcome. It happened while fooling around in a club, after she had opened for a band at a nightclub with Dwalin, and Thorin had accepted the suggestion of hooking up by a red-haired dwarf. They were kissing in a dark corner, when he pressed forward and poked her hip with his half-erect cock. At the time, Thorin had felt a shadow of fear at the thought of being forced into having sex with no-one around to help her, and mild scientific interest in the anatomy of such an alien member. The thudding of music in the background made it impossible to chat, especially with how the dwarf was intent on doing things without even checking if Thorin wanted them. Shortly after, he unintentionally ended it by grabbing her hand and leading it towards the offending bulge, and so, Thorin pushed him away, and stomped back to sulk by Dwalin’s side at the bar.

Bilbo’s hands are dragging her shirt up and away, and Thorin lets it happen, happy to be closer, albeit feeling a bit exposed, being the only one naked at the moment. The nervousness she’s experiencing reminds her that she can touch, too, and she tries to focus on sliding her palms against Bilbo’s back and sides. It’s not easy, when Bilbo’s reaction to seeing Thorin’s naked breasts is so obviously delighted: her dark eyes widen, she bites her lower lip, and watches her own fingers lightly pinch the dusky nipples until she feels Thorin’s hips jump forward against hers with arousal.

As much as Thorin wants to just sit back and enjoy the treatment, her fingers itch to explore Bilbo, to see what makes her squirm, and so she pushes the small shoulders away easily with her hands. ‘Wait, I… I want to do this to you, too, before we go on.’

Bilbo visibly stills at Thorin’s interruption, but quickly she relaxes and steps back. Thorin doesn’t want to lose contact, but the hobbit is already pulling her by the arms, leading them on a half-moon path together, so she rests her own bottom on the sideboard, and Thorin is the one pressing her against it.

‘I’m yours, love.’ Bilbo turns her face slightly to the side, watching Thorin’s face with a naughty and satisfied expression, exposing her neck to the dwarf.

Thorin gulps, and lets her eyes travel down. Bilbo’s wearing a delicate black top with thin spaghetti straps, that hugs her form and exposes an enticing sliver of cleavage, the round shapes of her thighs resting slightly apart from each other, wordlessly inviting Thorin’s thigh to park in between. She steps closer, wedging her clothed leg carefully flush against Bilbo, making her hum happily. Not knowing exactly what to do, since she’s always thought of herself as the passive member of her relationships, Thorin stiffly leans forward to place a kiss on the pale column of Bilbo’s neck, next to the wispy copper coils of her hair.

At Bilbo’s pleased vocalization, Thorin releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, accidentally blowing warm air on the hobbit’s skin, making her giggle and moan. ‘Sorry, I..’

‘It’s alright, keep on going.’ Bilbo sounds glad, her arms propped on the dark wood of the furniture, looking comfortable.

Using Bilbo’s actions as reference, Thorin leans closer to nuzzle and sniff at her shoulders. The results are immediate, and Bilbo tilts her head even further back, to let Thorin smell as much as she wants. Knowing it’s an accepted caress, Thorin hunches over, her hands naturally coming to cover Bilbo’s soft sides, and follows the curves of the extended neck. Noticing how there are patches that smell salty and slightly musky, and others that smell sweet like oil, probably either from perfume, or from the massage products they use at the Parlor, Thorin understands the appeal of taking in the scent of Bilbo’s skin like this.

When Thorin reaches the soft underside of Bilbo’s jaw, and is allowed access to the other side of her flushed face, she travels up, instead of following the line towards the left shoulder. She instinctively burrows her nose against the fruity-smelling hair, not caring that she’s taking big puffs of air in to thoroughly sense the soft aromas of Bilbo’s body. Smelling a person so rudimentarily... it’s curious how a thing that she had just learned, and had initially thought of as silly, is now such an interesting and arousing way to explore.

Thorin doesn’t want to remove her nose from under the luxurious layer of hair, so she nuzzles her nose and mouth diagonally on the leaf-shaped ear, just like Bilbo had done on her chest. Surprisingly, Bilbo’s hands fly to Thorin’s arms, and she feels that the hobbit’s back has gone ramrod-straight, her clothed chest nudging Thorin’s naked one. If Bilbo had not liked it, she’d have said something, certainly. So Thorin takes a chance and gently slides her lips against the soft lobe of Bilbo’s ear.

‘Oh, god. _Oh…’_ Bilbo sighs, and Thorin has to ground herself against the strong grip of hobbit arms and legs around her body, squeezing them together. She’s so light to Thorin that it isn’t noticeable Bilbo lifted her feet from the ground and is now being held up by grabbing onto Thorin’s back and crossing her feet at Thorin’s bottom.

Taking it as a sign to continue, Thorin traces a curved path along the many cartilage swirls of the hobbit’s ear with the tip of her nose, going back to sniffing at Bilbo’s skin. She revels in the many twitches Bilbo’s body makes, small moans, and quick breathing. It’s such a good smell, Thorin opens her mouth to press her lips on the pointed end of the ear, provoking Bilbo’s body to shiver all the way down to her feet, which dig deeper on Thorin’s buttcheeks. There’s a rush of excitement traveling across Thorin’s veins at bringing such bliss to Bilbo, especially with how she’s found out how sensitive her ear is all by herself.

‘You better, ah, move downwards, Thorin. Or I might stain your trousers soon,’ Bilbo says in a dreamy tone. Thorin curiously looks at where their hips are touching, leaning away to see that there’s a small dark patch of wetness on her leggings, not made by her own excitement. Bilbo watches Thorin with a smile on her red face, apparently finding it dreadfully fun.

‘I don’t mind.’ Thorin says, and wants to dive in and see if she can make Bilbo come just by touching her ear, but she’s stopped midway by shaky arms.

‘But I do. I want your mouth _elsewhere,_ too,’ Bilbo says, biting her lip, and letting her legs float downward, separating their bodies a few centimeters. She brings Thorin’s hands up from their frozen state at Bilbo’s sides to remind them of their previous goal.

Thorin shakes her head to stop staring at Bilbo’s lips, and follows the suggestion. The black top she’s wearing looks quite stretchy, so Thorin merely has to drag the spaghetti straps to either side, down silky round shoulders, and is rewarded with Bilbo’s beige lacy bra, and a long stretch of freckled cleavage to admire.

After a moment, Bilbo snakes her hands back through the top’s straps and lifts both arms up, exposing her curly red armpit hair. Thorin looks up at her face, and then back down at Bilbo’s pits, unsure of what to do next.

‘Do you want me to unclasp it?’ Bilbo asks.

‘Oh! No, I can do it.’ Thorin reaches around Bilbo’s torso, and carefully unhooks the two strips of fabric. Her heart slams against her ribs at the powerful moment of the bra slowly drifting forward, exposing more faintly musk-smelling skin.

Bilbo sluggishly lets her arms down, sliding her left hand down on Thorin’s right arm, bringing it up to rest on her round shoulder again, clearly inviting the touch. Sparing a glance at Bilbo’s relaxed expression, Thorin takes a full breath and starts exploring.

Her left hand comes up to mirror the right on Bilbo’s other shoulder, and from there, both hands travel leisurely down, towards the heaviest part of the pale breasts. Her skin is incredibly silky to the touch, but it's a relief to notice that there are tiny bumps, or minuscule peach-fuzz hairs on the way. It’s decidedly not as she’d imagine other races’ skins would be: unnaturally hairless, rubbery. Thorin cups Bilbo’s breasts tenderly, and after a mere second, she feels the nipples change shape under her palm, prodding her lightly. She really wants to kiss them, like Bilbo did to her, laying on the sofa so many days ago.

Looking up to confirm Bilbo’s still enjoying it - she seems to be taking pleasure in more than just the physical stimuli, something deeper, and truly wonderful - Thorin watches her own hands roam up and down on the wonderfully soft breasts, feel how her rough palms and fingertips make Bilbo’s hips undulate. Slowly, Thorin leans forward to plant kisses on top of Bilbo’s heart (safely away from her ears) and down, down, towards the nipples. Delicate hands come up to hold Thorin’s hair up, and she suspects it’s half for Bilbo to ground herself, half for the locks not to obstruct her view. When the kisses come close to their goal, Thorin takes a second to cherish the sensations, and being trusted with Bilbo’s vulnerability.

There’s such a pleasant weight contained in Bilbo’s breasts, that Thorin can’t stop herself from pressing her cheek gingerly against them, feeling them squish. Her nose burrows into the skin, sure she’s already mapped most of its scent, but it’s too addictive to stop, and she can feel Bilbo’s legs open even further, her hips stuttering with excitement. Her mind goes back to Bilbo saying she wanted Thorin’s mouth elsewhere, and the enticing image of her kneeling between those legs is dutifully provided.

Thorin leaves one dry kiss on Bilbo’s left breast (Thorin’s right), and she pulls back to nuzzle  
against the right one instead. Bilbo’s mild frustration can be heard in the huge breath she lets out, but Thorin merely smiles and drags her lips against the hard nipple while smelling the skin on the outside curve of the breast. It’s barely any effort to open her mouth and let the nub in, Bilbo’s moan reverberating through her skin, and it’s such an exhilarating sensation that Thorin almost feels it in her own body.

‘Ah, _Thorin…’_

The experience of having her name called with ecstasy is so blinding, Thorin’s excitement makes her move faster, sloppily and clumsily trying the same on Bilbo’s other breast. Before she gets to continue, small hands hold her cheek and temple.

‘Slowly, dear. I’m really enjoying it at this pace.’ The hands arrange Thorin’s hair, brushing it back. Bilbo’s low voice calms her down from the sudden rush.

Thorin steps back to stretch her spine, takes a deep breath, and nods. ‘Sorry.’

‘Nonsense.’ Bilbo smiles, her hands traveling idly down from Thorin’s hair to her naked chest, making Thorin’s stomach jump. Her smile grows into a grin, and Bilbo takes a hand back to tuck a curl behind a ear. ‘What do you want to do next?’

Gulping, Thorin tries not to stare too obviously at Bilbo’s plump thighs, the orange skirt ridden up, almost to the point of exposing the panties underneath. ‘I wanted to try my mouth… on your…’ She has no idea how to say this without being too crude, or sounding juvenile. Thorin stares at the corner of the furniture they’re leaning on, trying to think of a way to express herself.

Thankfully, Bilbo cuts in, supplying the right term. ‘You wanted to try oral?’

At Thorin’s nod, Bilbo plants her feet firmly on the floor. ‘That’s so exciting! I’d love that. But maybe it’s best I show you first, since you told me you’ve never been with anyone before?’ The worried tone in Bilbo’s voice makes Thorin look at her face again, her heart swelling and beating painfully as it tends to do while looking at Bilbo lately.

‘Show it how?’ Thorin imagines them practicing on their hands, or on a fake plastic toy.

‘On you, of course! Would you like that?’ Bilbo smiles impishly, and holds Thorin’s hips, coming closer, their breasts nearly touching.

Remembering the fantasy she had about Bilbo’s mouth on her, Thorin nods, her head perhaps bobbing more times than necessary. Bilbo laughs, and pushes Thorin back gently to rummage through one of the drawers in the sideboard.

‘Here’s your shirt. If you haven’t showered, I’d like you to. If you just want to freshen up, feel free. I want you to be comfortable. And hang your clothes on the hook, if you’re afraid of forgetting anything here. You can sit on the sofa, if you’re already fresh and comfy,’ Bilbo says. Thorin hums, and takes her clothes to the bright bathroom.

  
Hanging her trousers, bra, shirt, and bag on the hook behind the door, Thorin wonders that she’s not as nervous as she thought. As much as she wants to be intimate with Bilbo, there isn’t any certainty that she’s truly enjoying this, or if because of her role as a sex professional, this entire night has been just acting. Thorin remembers how Bilbo’s nervous fingers had fidgeted with the bag clasps during their date, leaned her head on Thorin’s arm, and her clear interest about Thorin’s life. Perhaps the truth is a mix of both, making her even more confused. Maybe it would be best to just enjoy the session, and leave complicated thoughts to be solved later, when she’s alone.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, as I said before, was quite long. So I had to cut it somewhere!! a.k.a. sorry for the blue balls, y'all
> 
> As usual, I want to thank my lovely betas, mcmanatea, mithrilbikini, and hiddenkitty for their efforts!!! ♥


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Mcmanatea, mithrilbikini, and hiddenkitty for the wonderful beta and suggestions!

After rinsing herself thoroughly with a disposable cloth tissue, Thorin throws the laundry-scented white robe around her shoulders and opens the door. Bilbo is kneeling on the sofa next to a handful of colorful toys, beaming.

‘Sit, sit! I’m really excited for this, can you tell?’

Thorin laughs. Bilbo’s fidgeting and nearly bouncing on her seat, slapping the cushions for Thorin to sit down. Her chest is covered by the black top again, but that doesn’t stop Thorin from admiring the gorgeous view of her breasts jumping slightly. ‘Yeah, I can.’

The sofa has three large cushions - possibly to fit bigger folk, too - but Bilbo’s signaling for Thorin to sit very close to herself. Upon sitting, the hobbit immediately turns to face her. ‘May I?’

After Thorin’s nod, Bilbo rises up to her knees, half crawling forward into Thorin’s lap. Her movements are smooth, the quick glimpses of lacy panties making Thorin’s mouth water, and once she’s settled, thighs spread, one hand pushing the orange skirt back down, Bilbo is a bit flushed. Thorin’s heart stops for a moment while Bilbo’s leaning forward, thinking she’ll be kissed on the lips.

Instead, Bilbo opens the lapels of Thorin’s robe with her nose, using her hands to sneakily untie the sash, exposing her breasts again. The expression on Bilbo’s face at the sight of them never fails to make Thorin feel thrilled, accepted, desired.

She tries to move her thighs from nerves, forgetting temporarily about them being support for a plump bottom, but Bilbo seems to enjoy the ride. Humming and giggling, she nuzzles the dark hair around Thorin’s nipples, provoking her seat to rock even further. Leaning forward, Bilbo supports her arms on either side of Thorin and opens her mouth to draw a spiral on the hard nipple with her tongue, nothing but a brush of wetness. But since Thorin’s watching it avidly, the sensation becomes an enticing tease, heightened by its lightness, and by the entire sensation of being mounted. A feather-light kiss, and Bilbo’s moving to the other side, looking directly at Thorin’s face, wordlessly asking for her to continue observing. On Thorin’s left breast, Bilbo slides her closed lips horizontally against the nipple. Just the sight of it being folded back and forth by a soft mouth makes Thorin’s hips jump, but the more her breath quickens, the more Bilbo widens her lips, slowly pulling it inside, and bumping it delicately from side to side against her waiting tongue, and Thorin lets out a loud groan.

With a wet smack, Bilbo lifts her smirking mouth from Thorin’s breast. She sits up, and stays there simply rocking on her seat of thighs - probably not noticing she’s doing it - and fondling Thorin’s chest with smooth palms. Just when Thorin’s thinking she could do with a longer while of a lapful of warm hobbit bum, Bilbo slides her knees from the sofa, getting up, but quickly sitting down on the fuzzy carpet, slowly spreading Thorin’s knees apart.

‘Is this okay? May I?’ Her eyes meaningfully focus on Thorin’s panties, and back up.

Thorin quietly raises her hips and rolls the dark blue underwear down to the middle of her thighs as an answer, afraid of her voice wavering. It’s as if their previous activities aren’t undoubtedly considered “intercourse,” and oral sex will mean something different. Perhaps it’s the exchange of fluids, or the proximity of Bilbo’s head with Thorin’s wetness that is setting off an alarm in her head. She’s just cleaned herself, and the irrational fear of letting out bad smells is mostly contained. Even so, Thorin feels safe in Bilbo’s hands (and mouth) and she lets her hands slide to her sides, and relaxes her muscles.

After seeing Thorin’s body relax, Bilbo looks satisfied, and continues pulling the panties down, leaving them on Thorin’s ankles. ‘I’ll try to walk you through the basic steps, but some parts I’d like you to pay attention, since it’s your own body.’ She shuffles closer, petting Thorin’s legs, at times tracing the trenches between muscles, or just warming the skin up with her palms.

‘I’ll try my best,’ Thorin says, feeling calm, even though her vulva is exposed and a hobbit woman is kneeling between her legs. Bilbo’s massage skills aren’t to be trifled with, Thorin thinks to herself.

‘You’re already a great student, so this will be no problem.’ Bilbo leans even closer, naturally spreading Thorin’s legs farther apart, her sultry hands traveling up to cup Thorin’s flesh. ‘Normally, I’d use a barrier, but you’ve allowed access to your medical records. If you don’t mind it, I’ll use my mouth directly on you.’

Thorin shakes her head, ‘No, go ahead.’

As if watching a movie, Thorin looks on, paralyzed, as Bilbo smiles and plants kisses, mouth-nuzzles, and quick licks to her thighs. The closer she gets to Thorin’s center, the more focused the imaginary lens of the film gets, and the loud thudding of her heartbeat can be heard in the background of her ears. The gestures are deliberate, sweet, clearly for Thorin’s sake.

‘If you kiss the inner thighs, it won’t surprise your partner too much when your mouth gets there. It’s a great build-up, even if they’re not wet already.’ Bilbo’s hand on Thorin’s mound slides downward, stretching her great labia open with her fingers. ‘Not an issue here. But you can always apply lubricant or saliva to help!’

‘I see.’ Thorin feels like there are two of her: one casually sitting and taking sex advice, and the other floating two meters above the sofa, watching it all happen while ripping her hair out in amazement.

With both hands, Bilbo kneads Thorin’s skin surrounding her opening, pinching the area with coarse hair, pulling slowly on it. ‘No need to be scared of putting weight behind your motions, especially if it isn’t on the clit. Your body can handle a lot. do you see how much I’m pulling you? Is it hurting?’

‘Not at all.’ Thorin shouldn’t be surprised that Bilbo is teaching her such wild things about her own body, as it seems to be a rule of their relationship.

Bilbo’s thumb and index finger shift to the middle, adding pressure to Thorin’s clit and small labia in one motion, and tugging it slightly outwards at the same time. It’s an entirely new motion for Thorin, and she sighs loudly with the pleasurable heartbeat thumping directly on it.

‘Of course you can just go ahead and stroke the person’s clit, but it’s fun to stimulate it in other ways, isn’t it?’ Bilbo looks entertained, watching Thorin’s reactions closely. ‘It also helps with bringing blood flow to the area. You can see how it makes the labia plump up, and get even redder in spots.’

Without hesitating, Bilbo dives forward, and catches the outside of Thorin’s entrance with her lips, softly, as if she’s measuring some mysterious attribute. It’s not particularly exciting, but the closeness, and the way her breath hits Thorin’s small labia is lovely, and so is the warmth of Bilbo’s body on her. Gradually, Bilbo reaches the center, capturing Thorin’s folds carefully, just pressing on them with the sensitive surface of her lips. Thorin has to force her legs still so she won’t twitch from pleasure and close in on Bilbo.

Hardly backing away to speak, and puffing warm air enticingly on Thorin’s wet skin, Bilbo explains, ‘It’s good to use your fingers, if the person allows you to insert them in their vagina. Meanwhile, you either suck, stroke, or do both with your mouth on their clit. You have to mind their responses, too. That’s the gist of it.’ She licks her wet lips, and bites on the lower one. ‘If I forget to explain any more, please stop me, or ask after we’re done.’

‘Ye-yes,’ Thorin manages to say while Bilbo gently burrows her jaw down onto Thorin’s crotch.

It’s quite a different sensation from stimulating herself with fingers or toys, since those have a generally smooth surface. The tongue, however, feels equally bumpy and slick, which is alien, but also incredibly exciting. Probably mostly psychologically so, since it’s such an intimate gesture, so just looking down between her legs makes Thorin feel even warmer in the face.

After a few light brushes with her tongue, Bilbo closes her lips around Thorin’s clit and starts sucking on it, which is also a new and intense sensation for her. As quickly as it started, Thorin feels it pulsating, and she cries out involuntarily. Eyes opening, Thorin sees the way Bilbo is reveling at Thorin’s torso twitching forward, her pinched eyebrows, and feels the hobbit gently draw lines on her wet opening with clever fingers. Thorin has to consciously remember to breathe, her abdominal muscles tensed up with pleasure. Bilbo is still pulling Thorin’s skin into her mouth, seemingly effortlessly so, since she’s breathing quite calmly. The long sucking motion seems to be driving all of the sensation to her crotch, Bilbo’s fingers now gradually pressing inside, and Thorin can feel clearly the breath against her coarse hair, even though she can’t stop twitching enough to focus her sight on the details.

Truly, if she hadn’t practiced with her new toy at home, she wouldn’t appreciate Bilbo’s touch as much as she is now. Bilbo’s expert digits press against the opposite vaginal wall from her G-spot, progressively pumping them inside, but not pulling all the way out, just rocking firmly, starting to make Thorin’s entire body swing with the motion.

With a loud smacking noise, Bilbo relaxes her mouth and starts circling the tip of her tongue on Thorin’s sensitive clit. When it presses hard, Thorin’s hips flinch back; therefore, Bilbo quickly picks up on the tenderness, and softens the touch. The strokes can be so soft - Bilbo verifies by testing a wide range of pressure levels - that she can pull her head back an inch, and slowly tickle the exposed clit while watching Thorin’s face. Her legs open further... the tease is maddening, but oddly satisfying, and soon Thorin can feel herself clenching down on Bilbo’s fingers inside of her. It’s becoming clear that she prefers different sensations depending on the technique, and she never thought it was possible, since she’d only used her own fingers to achieve orgasms before. Now she knows she likes a firmer touch by fingers, a constant vibration by toys, suction and feathery motions by tongue.

Bilbo’s mouth closes on Thorin to suck on her again, the velvety inside of her mouth even more noticeable by the sensitivity of Thorin’s swollen clit.

‘Oh. Oh. Hm… Bilbo, _oh.’_

At the sound of the moans, Bilbo’s eyes snap to Thorin’s open mouth, her irises seemingly pitch black from how dilated her pupils have become. With an odd incomplete (and obscene) chewing motion of her jaw, Bilbo sucks even harder, and in strong pulls, making Thorin whine loudly, her voice getting louder every time she lets out a breath. Thorin rolls her flanks up with the help of her legs, and Bilbo takes it as a clue to insert her fingers with more gusto, provoking even louder groans from Thorin’s throat.

‘I’m... I think I’m going to…’ Thorin warns Bilbo, who shuffles even closer on her bent knees.

Bilbo lets go, giving them a moment of rest, but the hand she was using to support herself comes up to cup Thorin’s left breast, and lovingly pet it while she catches her breath. Once she dives back in with her lips, Bilbo first plays around by licking the edges of Thorin’s clitoral hood, poking it firmly with the tip of her tongue, traveling all the way up and around, then coming to the shaft and hard nub with a much looser pressure, causing Thorin’s hips to seek Bilbo out, and lift up needily, while uncontrollable loud whines escape Thorin’s lips.

With a soft chuckle, Bilbo takes pity, and goes back to rocking Thorin’s body with her left-hand fingers inserted deep, while kissing her clit, loud and indecent sounds making Thorin blush even harder. Thorin isn’t sure what brings her to the brink: the wet pumping of fingers, the whole situation, or Bilbo’s tongue softly lapping her clit in wide strokes. Her thighs twitch up, knees begging to close, Bilbo’s right hand still warmly kneading Thorin’s nipple, her deep voice is stuck in her throat. The edge of the cliff seems to be endless, her body never letting go of one long, last breath of pleasure. And then, finally, her own hands shift from clutching the sofa cushions tightly, numbingly, to holding Bilbo’s curly head in place while her hips shake, her climax making her tremble with the effort of not clamping Bilbo there, but also wishing she'd never leave, her plush tongue pushing gorgeously against Thorin’s throbbing clit. Holding and controlling her breath is making Thorin light-headed, but the orgasm lasts a good while, and soon, she comes back to herself, limbs thrumming happily.

She’s lying back on the sofa cushion, her bottom being held by Bilbo’s hands, who’s wiping her sodden mouth on Thorin’s leg. ‘Wow… goodness me, that was hot,’ Bilbo sighs, placing one last worshipful peck on the trembling thigh next to her, and reaching for a box of tissues. ‘Here.’

After helping Thorin sit up, Bilbo goes to the dark wood sideboard to look for something inside one of the many drawers. Once she’s caught her breath, and the afterglow is no longer making her sleepy, Thorin wonders when Bilbo is going call her over to return the favor.

‘You can go to the toilet and get clean, now,’ Bilbo’s voice bounces from the wall.

Thorin stands up, grabbing her bunched up underwear, and leaves for the bathroom to quickly wipe herself. After washing her hands with soap, and drying in between her legs with a towel, she opens the door back to the sofa room, where Bilbo is standing next to the exit to the corridor, where she usually waits when their session is done.

‘Thorin? I thought you were leaving,’ Bilbo says, her brows furrowing. Thorin can see her beige bra lying on top of the dark wood, where they left it earlier.

‘Unless you want me to go, I wanted to do the same thing for you.’

Bilbo looks down, blushing, but Thorin can see her smiling. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

In a few strides, Thorin’s bare feet meet Bilbo’s. She just noticed how the hobbit had left her sandals behind the door, and finds it oddly endearing. The air conditioning in the room’s been helping with the overheating of their bodies, but once Thorin’s hands land gently on Bilbo’s arms, she can feel how hot the woman is. Her own palms seem cold in comparison, so instead of using them, she follows Bilbo’s steps, and proceeds to caress her with her lips. Slowly, so there’s time for reaction, Thorin caresses Bilbo’s neck with her nose.

Bilbo sighs, and her arms come up to hold Thorin’s elbows: it seems she doesn’t want Thorin to stop holding her, even with chilly hands. She hums, and leans back against the furniture, just as they were at the beginning of the night. Thorin’s nose travels from Bilbo’s throat up across her fragrant hair, to her ears, and she can feel Bilbo’s body shivering.

‘Sorry,’ Thorin mumbles, her mouth still on Bilbo’s cheek, whose tremors get even worse. Not understanding the reason, Thorin thinks it’s best to continue downwards.

Her hands can cover a wide expanse of Bilbo’s torso in one go, and it’s awfully exciting to do so. While breathing in the scent where shoulder meets neck, Thorin lets her curious hands roam. They map Bilbo’s plump back, down to her wide round hips, full side rolls, then to the front, where a sensitive and jumpy stomach awaits. Carefully, Thorin opens her jaw, just to place a kiss on the silky skin beneath her mouth, while her hands skim up, across tight low nipples, to the neck of the black top.

Bilbo’s pleased hums and sighs encourage Thorin to continue, and her hands drag the fabric down, exposing her chest again. She doesn’t waste time, hunching over to kiss it, Bilbo’s hands once more cradling her head, as it seems like such a natural motion for them both. Holding the left breast with one hand, Thorin closes her lips on a nipple, and Bilbo’s moan provokes a jolt of pleasure in her own body. Thorin could spend hours there, flicking her tongue calmly, but Bilbo’s fingers tighten on her hair, urging her to do more. Maybe next time she can ask to be the one treating Bilbo for the entire session.

On the other breast, Thorin tries a different approach, as Bilbo taught her to do, to experiment: first she lathers the nipple to ease the way, then she presses her tongue a bit more firmly, all the way around the nub. Bilbo’s mouth falls open, and she pants lewdly, clutching at Thorin’s head, not clear if she wants Thorin to continue or to move downwards.

‘Oh, my… _Oh…_ Thorin, you’re so good.’ Bilbo’s smiling when Thorin lets go of the breast to look up at her, cheeks rosy with the strain of breathing hard.

The same rush of adrenaline courses through her again at hearing her name, but Thorin is ready to deal with it this time. Her nose nuzzles the skin in the center of Bilbo’s chest, and her hands long for more, so they drag down, to the hem of the orange miniskirt, where the heat Bilbo’s body is radiating is stronger still. Restless fingers reach underneath, and hit right where lacy underwear meets pudgy thigh.

At Bilbo’s interested hum, Thorin burrows her face into the patch of squishy belly fold that she can reach, nudging the fabric of the top down with her chin; it’s all too exciting, and Bilbo’s chest is a safe place to rest her head. Even though the hobbit’s stomach jumps at any movement of Thorin’s hand, she keeps on tracing the wet fabric, not believing she’s touching such a tender part of Bilbo. If she listens carefully, in between loud thumps of blood flow against her ears, she can her tiny wet noises coming from under the lace, where her fingers explore slowly.

‘Please, Thorin…’ Bilbo keeps hold of Thorin’s head, but allows her to look up to see her more-than-ready expression.

Reaching up a few centimeters, Thorin hooks a finger on the elastic to pull the underwear down, her mind blanking at the feeling of soft curly hairs against her hand. The panties are left in the mid-point between Bilbo’s thighs and knees, and Thorin can’t stop herself from looking at the wide dark patch of wetness on their gusset. Gulping, she straightens her back, arm traveling up with the movement, her hand wedging warmly against Bilbo’s mound.

Bilbo’s eyes widen, but she’s looking straight into Thorin’s: she’s keen, and waiting. Just from picturing the scene in her mind, Thorin can feel a new surge of excitement pooling in her own knickers. Touching someone else like this is exhilarating by itself, therefore even if Thorin wasn’t infatuated with Bilbo, she’d be absolutely thrilled. Bilbo’s clit is bigger than her own, or at least it seems that the flesh around it is less thick than Thorin is used to feeling, making it protrude. From it being so easy to reach, Thorin can feel it flutter while she explores, the plentiful natural lubricant slicking the way. The short skirt allows her fingers to slip between Bilbo’s labia with ease, without having to reach around the fabric. But looking down, Thorin can barely see anything apart from when she draws the fingers back, and the moist soft skin travels along with them, and out into view. It makes her mouth water.

The pale thighs spread, and Thorin’s head snaps back up to look at Bilbo’s flushed face, who apparently is watching her handiwork, too. Not being able to wait anymore, Thorin places one last kiss on Bilbo’s breast and kneels in front of her, her longer limbs leveling her head with the hobbit’s navel.

‘Wait, don’t you want to move it to the sofa? Your knees will hurt if you…’ Bilbo’s hand is still on Thorin’s head, and she’s (probably unconsciously) petting her long hair while speaking.

‘Here’s good. Unless it isn’t so for you.’ The fluffy carpet protects her knees from the hard floorboards, and she has a wonderful view from there.

‘Then, here should be good for me too.’ She smiles naughtily, and the hand that isn’t on Thorin’s head goes back to support her torso on the furniture. If the position is making Bilbo uncomfortable, she doesn’t show it. In fact, it seems that Bilbo is enjoying it very much, from her relaxed expression and deep breathing.

Following Bilbo’s example, Thorin kneads the jiggly tissue of the spread thighs with her thumbs, then leans to nuzzle and kiss it softly. They jump slightly, but from what Thorin can hear, the sighs Bilbo breathes out are from pleasure rather than shock. The smell of Bilbo’s legs is the same as the one on her neck, yet the closer she gets to the shadow of the tiny skirt, the more salt and soft musk she can sense. It’s actually a similar smell to her own privates, Thorin wonders distantly, while her nose is being pulled upwards as if by a magnet to the patch of curls between Bilbo’s legs.

‘Ah, this is _so_ naughty.’ A gulp, and, ‘Thorin, you’re doing amazing, love,’ Bilbo gasps.

Her nose guides her to the diagonal V line of Bilbo’s crotch, her face pressing against the squishy skin, and she tries to silently pull more of the smell into her lungs, but it’s almost impossible to do so quietly. It’s addictive, and Thorin feels Bilbo’s fingers grasp her hair the deeper the breaths her nose pulls.

Tilting her head to the right, Thorin brushes her mouth against Bilbo’s slit, and rubs against the wetness pooling outside of it, poking her chin further under the gap of Bilbo’s legs. ‘Oh…Oh!’ From Bilbo’s constant cries, and Thorin not having yet even touched her directly, it’s obvious she’s been wanting release a long while. Does she go back upstairs after every session to take care of herself? Thorin would love to lend a hand, if that’s the case in the future.

Kissing Bilbo’s pussy as if on the lips, Thorin slides her tongue between her labia, circling the engorged clit, feeling Bilbo’s hip jut forward to grant easier access. Thorin’s hands, which were clutching any surface next to Bilbo’s legs, now come up to caress the sides of her opening, her fingers saturated with its moisture.

‘Here, here. Use this.’

Bilbo’s hands struggle to open a condom wrapper, but soon she’s dragging the latex on top of a thick, bright pink toy. ‘The base is flared so you can use it with a harness. But I can explain that later. Please.’ She’s laughing, sounding hurried and breathless, and what Thorin can see from her exposed chest is also pink in between the freckles.

Being given the toy, Thorin has little time to feel it in her hands before she’s inserting it smoothly and calmly into Bilbo. The tip isn’t dramatically upturned like the one Thorin bought, but Bilbo seems to enjoy it immensely anyway, small spasms visible from the outside of her body, and she’s singing a satisfied breath. She plans to slide it in patiently, even though Bilbo’s already asking for more.

Thorin licks her salty lips and goes back to work, right hand holding the toy in place, and the left gripping Bilbo’s leg. And so, she swipes her tongue across Bilbo’s clit, feeling it move slightly with the internal contractions, which also pull the pink toy inside in small spasms. Every time Thorin’s tongue finishes a horizontal arc, the clit bounces back into center, and apart from Bilbo’s vocal agreements of it being lovely for her, it’s also a very carnal and basal sensation for Thorin herself, feeling the flesh react to her touch, to have it inside of her mouth like this. The salty flavor, faint musk smell, and the actual feeling of having a part of Bilbo in between her lips is fantastic, and it makes her knees clench together with excitement.

Trying yet another lesson from Bilbo, Thorin sucks the skin around the nub into her mouth, and experiments how much she can breathe through her nose. Indeed, it’s not a difficult task, especially with how Bilbo seems to be holding back from rutting against Thorin’s face, her hips twitching forward, thighs shaking.

‘Ohhh… oh, _heavens._ Yes.’ Bilbo doesn’t seem to be expecting a conversation with Thorin, but she continues repeating praises over and over again.

Remembering to move the toy, she drives it all the way inside Bilbo, making her groan with satisfaction. It seems Bilbo’s much closer to the finish than Thorin had been when they started, her innumerous moans getting louder and higher while Thorin pumps the thick toy wetly inside.

‘Thorin, honey. I’m going to come soon, please don’t stop. Please, please…Oh, please...’ Bilbo’s chanting turns progressively to babble.

Thorin had forgotten that Bilbo is still holding her hair in her hand, but with the impending burst of pleasure, Bilbo’s fingers clasp it quite tightly at times. Right after, as if in a soothing manner, they try to comb the tresses, but get tangled in the way, and then she’s gripping it again when Thorin’s jaw draws back to suck harder, mirroring Bilbo’s actions from earlier. It catches her by surprise how much she enjoys the tight grip on her hair, but besides loving how Bilbo’s accidentally performing it here, Thorin stores the information away for later.

‘Ah, _ah, I-!’_ Bilbo’s (unexpectedly and adorably chatty) whines stutter, and suddenly she pulls away from Thorin’s mouth, hand flies forward to her clit to roughly rub on it, supporting herself against Thorin’s shoulders. She didn’t realize she’d been pushed backwards with the motion, but from the new angle, Thorin can see Bilbo’s pinched brow, half-closed eyes, and open mouth, letting out the filthiest-sounding moans, that travel directly to Thorin’s groin. It’s beautiful to watch: Bilbo’s breasts jiggle right in front of her, asking to be kissed again, her plump thighs twitch and press together, her flushed cheeks clash with bright ginger hair, and by the end of Bilbo’s orgasm, she’s practically humping her own palm in abandon.

With one last sigh, the hobbit relaxes, but her eyebrows remain furrowed. She looks dazedly at Thorin’s face, eyes sad, seeming to deflate quickly.

Crumbling from the bottom up, Bilbo’s knees give out, and Thorin’s fist holding the toy accompany the movement, trying to hold her up, or cushion the gradual fall somehow. The silicone shaft thankfully pops out easily, and Thorin lets go of it to support Bilbo’s torso with both hands. Once Bilbo’s fully seated on Thorin’s lap, she hears normal breathing, albeit slightly labored, but Bilbo still slumps forward, arms gripping at the coarse fabric of Thorin’s robe.

‘Bilbo? Are you alright?’ Thorin uses her left hand to dry her own jaw, and to squeeze Bilbo’s shoulder. Not being able to see the woman’s face, Thorin almost assumes she’s fainted, or asleep. That’s when she feels, rather than hears, Bilbo’s body jump from a sob. Warm tears trickle down across the robe, and Thorin’s stomach drops. ‘Bilbo…?’

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you to mcmanatea and mithrilbikini for the beta work ♥

‘Did I hurt you? Was it too rough?’ Thorin asks, her own low voice breaking with fear, sounding too loud in the quiet room.

Immediately, she can feel Bilbo’s fingers clutching the robe around her wide shoulders, and the short curls shifting against her face as the hobbit shakes her head ‘no’. Thorin expects to hear Bilbo’s words, but all she gets are the heaves of labored breaths and hiccups against her own chest. It looks as though Bilbo is trying hard to stop crying, but is failing. All Thorin can do is console her and be patient.

Bilbo is warm and solid on top of Thorin’s legs, and before they sit on the floor for too long (and make Thorin’s limbs fall asleep), she rearranges her calves to cross more comfortably, being careful not to dislodge the tense woman on her lap too much. After releasing her weight back on the fuzzy carpet, Thorin pushes Bilbo down to relax again, her palms being warmed through the orange skirt that’s covering Bilbo’s hips.

Some years before, Thorin had consoled her nephews like this, but it was much simpler to just sing and rock them left to right until they tired themselves out and slept right there in her arms. Her hands end up petting up and down Bilbo’s soft back, just to have something to do. Not that she needs the warmth, but Bilbo’s quiet crying begs Thorin to hold her close.

The shoulder Bilbo’s burrowed her face against is now soaked, and Thorin can feel her head being hoisted slowly, and hot breath being blown against the wet patch on the robe.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry, I’m…’ Bilbo says, in between sniffles. Her voice is pitifully nasal, but as much as Thorin wants to, she isn’t allowed to look at Bilbo’s face yet, since she’s still facing downward, a curtain of hair covering her features, and only leaving a bright red ear on display.

Not knowing exactly what to say, but not wanting Bilbo to feel like she needs to apologize, Thorin runs her hands nervously on the hobbit’s narrow shoulders, and shakes her head. ‘It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re not in pain.’

‘No, this is stupid. I shouldn’t be making you feel like _this.’_ Bilbo sounds frustrated, and soon, her hands travel from Thorin’s shoulders to her own face, to roughly rub at her eyes, from what Thorin can see.

‘Like what?’

A sigh of irritation, and Bilbo’s face appears under a shroud of frizzy hair, half of it hidden by a hand. ‘Like you need to comfort me. I’m supposed to comfort _you,_ not the other way around.’

Thorin’s brow furrows while she thinks. ‘You told me on my first day here that you’d offer intimacy. I don’t know how we’d have that if I can’t even take care of you in return.’

Bilbo’s chin wobbles, and her other hand comes to join the first in covering her face while new, fat tears pool between her copper eyelashes. Regretting having said anything, Thorin jolts forward, awkwardly petting Bilbo’s arms and hair.

‘Oh, I… I’m sorry. What did I say? What’s wrong?’

Sniffling, and then holding her breath in so as not to hiccup more, Bilbo has to take a few breaths before talking. ‘I… ugh, I’m so stupid. I just… It’s been so long.’ Her eyes water again, and Thorin watches as a tear drips down on her robe. ‘So long… since anyone’s so willingly done these things to me? Like, really wanted to do them? I had forgotten how much I…’

Bilbo’s face crumples, and she covers herself again, but this time Thorin is ready to hold her tight as she falls forward. Besides their date at the restaurant, Thorin hasn’t had a chance to learn more about Bilbo’s point of view as a worker in this field. She thought that having more information would help her form an opinion, but in this case, it’s only serving to make her feel more confused. Is Bilbo just an amazing actress? Does she enjoy spending time with Thorin, or is it just so Thorin will come back for more sessions? Questions flood her mind while she wraps Bilbo’s body with her arms, rocking them both back and forth.

‘I thought you got to have nice things for yourself while working here. I don’t know much about it, but I thought sex had to always be fun for everyone.’ Thorin feels absolutely stupid saying these things, but when such thoughts pervaded her mind, she genuinely imagined Bilbo having wild, amazing sex with previous clients, or possibly with current partners.

‘It is fun. It is. I’m being silly. Don’t listen to me.’ Bilbo’s muffled voice comes from between her palms next to Thorin’s right ear.

‘You’re not. Otherwise it wouldn’t have made you cry.’ Thorin waits for something to be said, but completes the thought anyway: ‘You don’t have to share if it makes you uncomfortable, but something’s making you upset. And I want to hear you talk about it.’

While pausing and seeing if Bilbo answers, Thorin thinks that perhaps it wouldn’t be safe for Bilbo to share her honest opinions in a workplace that might have security cameras and microphones. It’s quite the paranoid thought, and it suddenly makes Thorin feel faintly violated at the possibility of having been recorded, but she prioritizes the present issue of Bilbo’s distress. ‘I can give you a ride home, so you’ll be more comfortable, if you want.’

Two deep breaths, and Bilbo’s face emerges from hiding. ‘...Okay. I’d like that.’

They help each other stand up, since Bilbo’s limbs are so twined around Thorin, and the fact that neither of them are spry young women anymore. They rearrange their clothes and wipe their hands with wet tissues. Bilbo places the toy they used in a sterile fabric bag to be cleaned later, and to Thorin’s surprise, they go to the adjoined bathroom together. Silently, they take turns washing their hands, the swollenness of the hobbit’s eyes making Thorin stare worriedly at her through the mirror. Bilbo looks up, and catches Thorin watching.

She gives Thorin a smile, a seemingly honest one, however small, and steps back to leave the toilet. ‘I’ll clean and close the Parlor up while you get dressed, okay? I’ll meet you back here.’

* * *

 

Their walk back to Thorin’s apartment is comfortably quiet, with Bilbo linking her arm with Thorin’s, and consequently making their pace much slower and calmer. After having left the Parlor, Bilbo seems to be more chipper, her leather sandals slapping on the curb, the low temperature not bothering her, despite her thighs being exposed.

While waiting for a traffic light to change, Thorin sees their reflection on a closed shop window, and feels an odd warm bloom across her chest. They look great together, just like actual girlfriends, strolling the streets late at night, all contrasting shapes, and Bilbo’s arm fits hers perfectly.

Once they reach Thorin’s apartment, they have to go through the night security guard, who beams at the sight of their tenant bringing a pretty guest home. Bilbo smiles back at them, but is quickly dragged away to climb down the stairs towards the garage. Bilbo already knows which car is Thorin’s and where it’s parked, and again, the fuzzy bubbling feeling invades Thorin’s belly. Bilbo climbs into the passenger seat and looks like she belongs there, like they’ve done this a hundred times together before. Thorin’s seeing a possible path of her life where Bilbo occupies an ever-vacant position at her side, and it’s such a perfect sight, it almost hurts.

Thorin turns on the radio just so they won’t be forced to talk, and Bilbo seems to relax, apparently grateful for the small gesture. The ride to Bilbo’s home is awfully quick, especially with how much Thorin is dreading reaching the destination, not sure if Bilbo will indeed want to invite her in to talk. She’s already preemptively missing being with the woman.

Lowering the car window so Bilbo can talk to the guard stationed at the boom gate a few blocks from Bagshot Row, Thorin gets the impression they’re much less happy to see a guest driving inside than at her building. A mild discomfort prickles at the back of her mind: perhaps it’s because she’s a dwarf? They’re quickly allowed inside, even though the hobbit security stares at them with an air of judgment on their frowning face.

They leave the car right in front of Bag End this time, Bilbo saying they shouldn’t mind the staring neighbours while she looks for her keys. Thorin’s beckoned in, and they cross the dark garden together, Bilbo telling her where the large rounded stone slabs end so they won’t trip. Smiling to herself, Thorin doesn’t mention that she can see the gaps quite clearly through the darkness.

Bilbo opens the round door and flicks the light on, and Thorin instinctively hunches forward not to hit her head on the wood frame, but it’s tall enough for her to stand comfortably. The entrance hall is all curves and textures: the furniture looks mostly hand-made, rustic, and it matches the preconception of what hobbits’ tastes are like in Thorin’s mind. To her left, Bilbo’s leaving her shoes inside of a small cupboard, and grabbing a pair of slippers for Thorin to change into. It’s definitely not how dwarves get around in their homes, but given how sparkling clean Bilbo’s floor is, and how big Bag End seems to be, it sounds like the most reasonable thing to do: to spare her the effort of having to wipe any mud stains at all.

‘Come in, come in! But close the door, since Gollum will sneak away, if we let him.’ Bilbo is padding away to the left corridors, and Thorin is rushing to toe her shoes off to accompany the woman. ‘Are you hungry? I think I have a fruit cake somewhere. I’ll put the kettle on for tea,’ her voice echoes from the long, winding rooms.

The house looks well-lived, and very much well-used, in Thorin’s opinion. It’s clean, certainly, but it has so many objects in plain sight that it makes her a bit dizzy trying to focus on them while following Bilbo to the kitchen. From the outside of the house, Thorin could see a top floor, so it boggles her mind how much more this hobbit can own, living by herself. Every wall seems to be covered with framed yellowing black-and-white photographs of curly-haired hobbits, each of them with a round and wide smile, either holding babies, or hugging one another. The most important room of the house, Thorin assumes from crossing a few of them, seems to be the living room, with a wide dining table laden with books on one side, and three low chairs on the other. There’s a rug woven with red and yellow designs underneath her feet, and an alcove with two large portraits of hobbits above the unlit fireplace.

‘Sorry about the mess. I don’t get many visitors,’ Bilbo says, grimacing, but gracefully offering Thorin a seat on the solid wood bench at the kitchen table. The surface of the table is covered with different kinds of fruits, appliances, cookbooks, and clean dishes. Bilbo makes space for two mugs, and a loaf of sweet bread in the middle.

‘It’s not messy at all.’ After the initial overwhelming sensation at the density of information, Thorin’s finding the yellow tones of the walls and furniture quite comfortable and welcoming. They also match Bilbo so well, it’s like finally looking at a complete piece of art after years of only seeing fragments. However unpleasant, even the slight damp odor that she smelled while crossing the living room makes sense, since the entire house seems so old and classic.

Bilbo smiles, and sits across from Thorin. ‘What flavor would you like? I have the usual: earl grey, chamomile, lemongrass… You know, I have another tin somewhere, but I wonder if they’re still good. Should I get it for you?’

Squinting, Thorin considers Bilbo. She’s using a very controlled and forcibly happy tone of voice, as if she’s not worried about anything at all. As if she hadn’t just cried on Thorin’s shoulder an hour back.

‘I’ll have what you’re having,’ Thorin says, cutting into the cake with a blunt knife. She sees that Bilbo’s looking around the kitchen, restless.

‘Are you sure? I can offer you something else, too, if you’d like?’

Before Bilbo can get up from her seat, Thorin reaches forward to place a hand over the hobbit’s. ‘Let’s talk. I’m not hungry or thirsty. I want to know what happened earlier.’

Bilbo’s paralyzed in her seat, her smile slowly wilting. She glances at Thorin, and sighs, apparently accepting being caught. ‘Alright, alright…’ Pulling her feet up to perch on the bench, Bilbo quickly places tea bags in their mugs, pours the hot water, and crosses her arms around her knees.

‘I… I don’t know where to start, since there’s so much in my mind. Hmm...’ Bilbo stares down at the classy flower designs on the porcelain. ‘Remember when I told you I had a bad experience at work? That a client stalked me, and such?’

‘Yes.’

‘I suppose it started around then. At the time, I was dating a woman, we were hitting it off, I think it was our sixth date already. The night the creep followed me, and found me with my partner, he… accidentally outed me.’ Bilbo’s chin rests on her leg, face growing slightly red, probably from the shameful memory.

‘What do you mean, “outed?”’ Thorin’s mind goes to Bilbo’s sexuality, and she feels rather silly imagining that Bilbo’s partner wouldn’t have known about it already, being in a lesbian relationship.

‘She didn’t know I worked with sex.  I wasn’t exactly hiding the truth, but I wasn’t ready to tell her. It was already awkward enough to have a client invading my personal life, let alone having these unlucky consequences.’ Bilbo’s looking down at her feet, apparently fiddling with them under the table. ‘Needless to say, things soured between us, and for many reasons, she left me.’ A small pause, and Bilbo lifts her head obstinately. ‘Anyway, I took a few other clients after that, mostly because we couldn’t spare the funds to call other masseuses in.’

Thorin hums, and thinks that Bilbo’s omitting quite a few details in her story, but she seems to have a good reason for it. ‘I remember you telling me that it was then that you realized you didn’t like men.’

‘Well, yeah. Comparatively, we take in many more male clients than other genders. Creepy behavior aside, I… Whenever we moved on from basic massages, they’d get _handsy,_ and would want to take things from me.’

Feeling her heartbeat accelerate, Thorin’s eyes widen, and she can feel a current of rage raising from her stomach, making it hard to form words. ‘What… what things?’

‘You know what everyone thinks of hobbits, right? It was easy for these guys to assume I was always willing to give my body away for them to touch. Not that they ever hurt me, but they never worried about what I wanted, or how I truly felt.’ Bilbo’s looking at the wall to the right of Thorin’s head, focusing on different objects while speaking. ‘I guess that’s what made me cry tonight. You always treat me so well.’

Thorin thought that the truth wouldn’t hurt, but it does. It’s a side of reality she refused to see until now, that Bilbo was emotionally hurt by work. Thinking back, Thorin actually feels a little embarrassed for doubting the hobbit’s intentions: in the face of such a sad fact, it barely matters how genuine Bilbo’s being towards her, as long as she’s not being forced to do anything. Just the thought of this sweet woman filled with personality having to stomach being touched until a client is satisfied is enough to make Thorin’s hand tremble with ire.

After a moment, Bilbo seems to notice that Thorin is deep in thought, swallows hard, and continues talking. ‘I don’t have to stand up for my clients, but I should explain that I used to really like their approach before the incident. I enjoyed sex in all forms, and I took pleasure in men being honest with their desires.’ Her hands rest around the steaming cup of tea in front of her. ‘After I had to break up with that last partner, I suppose sex with these strange men started feeling more like a chore than anything else. Which is ironic, since that’s what I work with, isn’t it?’

Bilbo’s knees vanish below the table when she scoots closer to take a sip of the tea, and Thorin mirrors her. It doesn’t feel right, Bilbo staying in a place she doesn’t like. She’s smart, able-bodied, pretty. Why hasn’t she moved on yet? It’s bleak to think of what would have happened if it wasn’t for Bilbo working in the Parlor, and not appearing in Thorin’s life, but it’s worth the scrutiny.

Without being able to stop it before it leaves her mouth, the question is out. ‘Why are you still there? You don’t need to stay, I bet you can work anywhere.’

The tight smile on Bilbo’s freckled face tells Thorin that she’d been waiting for this. ‘I really should, shouldn’t I? Besides me being the owner’s business partner, it seems that inertia is keeping me from seeking another career.’ She sees the way Thorin’s eyebrows shoot up, and her tight smile becomes sly. ‘I know. Weird, huh? In a way, I took the Pink Azalea Parlor as a pet administration project, and it grew into something larger than me. I’ve been there for many years, and when I was asked to become a partner, I gave it my all, trying to link body and soul in a way I thought no one had the creativity to have done before. Now, I’m afraid I understand why it had never been done.’

Hands coming up to rub against her light eyelashes, Bilbo seems deep in thought. From a sniffle, it sounds as though the tea is helping unclog her sinuses.

‘At first, I didn’t trust the Parlor,’ Thorin says, trying to choose her words carefully. ‘But you’re the reason I continue going there. I think it’s admirable you worked hard to revolutionize your workplace. But can’t you step back from being a masseuse? It’s obvious how much it’s burned you out.’

Bilbo’s gaze turns soft, and so does her smile. ‘I could. But times aren’t easy for anyone, and I don’t know if my boss will want to lose me to administrative work, with how much money it takes to run the Parlor.’ A small pause, and Thorin sees a glint of mischief in her eye. ‘I uh… When you showed up, and told me you were working freelance, I have to admit I was quite interested.’

Feeling herself grin with how lively and shrewd Bilbo is being, Thorin asks, ‘Interested in what?’

‘I wondered for a second if it would be possible for me to focus on my writing, and actually publish books. Since then, I’ve been coming home and spending my free time planning a story, but I’m still too shy to admit it to my friends.’ Her hand’s scratching the back of her head, and she seems adorably embarrassed.

‘I understand that. When I quit my job at my father’s factory, I felt foolish for seeking a career in music. But I’m quite happy to be doing what I do, now. I still make time to see my family, and they seem to like me better now that I’ve gone after something that made my life better. I know how miserable the wrong job can make you, and you should seek a better situation for yourself, if you can.’

Bilbo’s chin is propped up on her hand, and she seems entranced with what Thorin’s saying, since her face appears to be glowing with interest. ‘That’s so inspiring… The only thing stopping me is my attachment to this house. My father built it for my mother, back when the area wasn’t as wealthy as it is now. It’s so full of memories, I can’t see myself moving out. But I have to make some heavy payments every year since it’s in such a rich neighborhood, and there aren’t many other jobs that would help me cover that, plus rent.’

The harsh answer to Bilbo’s problem sounds obvious to Thorin, and she has to purse her lips not to blurt it out: sell the house, and find another job. The clutter around the house, and refusal to leave might mean that Bilbo’s parents died somewhat recently, or at least that she hasn’t had closure on their deaths. Thorin could be wrong, and Bilbo’s parents could be alive, but she knows too well about the somber, icy hole that is left behind in one’s soul when close family dies, and Thorin can see it in Bilbo.

‘If keeping the house is so important, then I suppose you’re on the right path.’ Thorin isn’t sure what to say, or what would be proper, having suspected such grim things about Bilbo. Slowly, in the future, they can maybe talk about the loss of their parents, and share a moment, but it doesn’t feel right yet. ‘You’re doing the best you can. I hope you can talk to your boss, work out a better situation, or something.’

‘I’m already much happier, having only you as a client. But thank you.’ Bilbo smiles, and downs the last of her tea.

Thorin’s tea has gone tepid, and it feels like a good time to suggest going home. She doesn’t want to overstay her welcome, especially with how the discussion’s done. Gulping the entire mug of unsweetened tea, Thorin makes a motion to start getting up. ‘I should be going. You probably need to wake up early tomorrow, and I don’t want to stand in the way of your rest.’

‘Oh! Sure, I’ll accompany you to the gate.’ Bilbo looks up at the kitchen clock, and Thorin follows her gaze. It has cute breakfast rolls and fruit printed behind the hands marking 11:45, and it makes her smile. ‘Cripes, it’s so late already!’

Bilbo walks ahead, guiding Thorin outside of Bag End (which is a relief, since she doesn’t remember where the door is), while chatting about the furniture. They’re mostly relics, solid wood, and covered with cushions or blankets hand-sewn by her mother. Even the small ornate table mats, or “doilies,” were crocheted by one of her parents. The house feels even more full of history now that Bilbo’s pointed out a few details.

They reach the entrance, but Bilbo stops for a moment right after swinging the heavy round door open. Worried that there might be something outside, Thorin walks a step forward, looking intently at the fruit trees in the dark. Her shoulders jump up with fright when Bilbo grasps her shirt from the back.

‘Sorry, I… I wanted to say thank you for bringing me back home, and…’ Bilbo says, holding Thorin in place so she can’t turn to look behind. Still, Thorin turns her head to listen better. ‘You’re the sweetest person, I’m thankful we got to meet. I’m lucky to spend so much time with you.’

Thorin feels an arm circling her waist, and Bilbo’s relinquished hold on her shirt, so she can turn half way around. Lifting her curly head, Bilbo looks up with a meaningful crease between her eyebrows, and Thorin knows that it was true emotion that moved the hobbit to reach out like this.

Once back in her apartment, Thorin can’t deflate the overpowering balloon of warmth that’s expanding in her chest, and she plans how and when to ask Bilbo to be her girlfriend, at last.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you SO much to my trio of lovely betas, hiddenkitty, mithrilbikini, and mcmanatea! ♥

Making a love confession is easier said than done, like most things in life. Thorin finds herself staring blindly at a piece of paper with a scant number of words written on it: a list of ideas for meaningful gifts to Bilbo. Unfortunately, it’s proving to be very hard to write.

It’s an obvious plan for her to make recordings of favorite songs, but it doesn’t seem like it’s enough to express what Thorin is feeling. They’ve shared so many messages, so many moments until now, and it feels empty to only focus on one thing, when there are so many other presents that Bilbo might enjoy.

Her mind travels through making meals, buying clothes, and even jewelry, but none of those things sound like they come from Thorin’s heart, and they’re outside of her skill range. Shaking her head, she remembers sitting next to Dís, around ten years ago, hearing the elated tone in her little sister’s voice after having just been proposed to by Víli. Dís showed the pair of mithril earrings to Thorin, talking about how romantic the proposal was, and how Víli made the earrings himself at his father’s atelier. Thorin had smiled and congratulated her on getting engaged to her highschool sweetheart: it was truly a match made in stone. But later, she’d found the traditional tone of the gift quite tacky, and had shared a laugh with Dwalin in private.

Her opinion hasn’t changed: giving gems and jewelry is a very old-fashioned way of expressing a dwarrow’s love. However, she now understands the look she’d seen in Víli’s face, and the happy tears streaming down Dís’s cheeks. If Thorin isn’t wrong in feeling that there’s a chance Bilbo will accept her (much milder) proposition, the happiness will probably make her cry.

That is, if she isn’t wrong. What if she’s assuming too much? Bilbo’s vulnerability could have been any number of things: the fear of jumping to a new career, or of opening up to someone. Thorin’s stomach sinks, and she feels her soul falling with it. What if she asks this, and it makes things awkward between them?

Her eyes dart despairingly around the room, nervous breaths filling her ears, and her gaze comes to a rest on the chat app open on her computer internet browser. She sees the new messages from Bilbo, pleasantly joking about her cat Gollum not having been brave enough to meet Thorin last night. Dwalin is asking how things are going, and concisely commenting on her newest gig. The family chat happily talks about Frerin’s new advertisement photo, and she breathes deeply, trying to calm herself by replying to them. Since she started seeing Bilbo, Thorin hasn’t stopped messaging her very vocal family, but they do make inquiries about why she hasn’t “been around.”

A tide of fondness floods Thorin’s limbs, keeping her from complete despair. No matter what happens, her family will always be there for her, no matter how infuriating or nosy they might be at times.

The memory of Bilbo surrounded by ancient portraits, alone in that huge house, pops into her mind. Merely thinking of it makes Thorin wish she was there with her now. Bilbo’s grip on her shirt on Bag End’s threshold, her expressive and enigmatic eyes at that moment, help convince Thorin once more that she may have a chance. Bilbo trusts her with her vulnerabilities, with her past. It’s a good sign for Thorin. Even so, they’re both adults, and if it’s a mistaken judgement, they can move on, and learn to live with it.

After this rollercoaster of wild emotions, Thorin feels slightly unhinged. She’d been feeling stable for a few weeks, and this familiar sense of losing control is unwelcome. It’s silly that she hyperventilated at the thought of being rejected, and now that it’s it’s over, Thorin doubts her own mental stability, and wonders if it can be written off as just an isolated fit of nerves. Ten-plus years of the same issue repeating itself tells her that it isn’t so.

Frerin’s picture and name bump up from her contact list, and there’s a new message from him on the app. Thorin frowns, since she just complimented his photograph in the family conversation. It’s odd that he’s coming to chat with her privately so suddenly. 

> Frerin: Holla, sis...
> 
> Thorin: Hi. What is it?

Dís is much more direct with her wishes when they chat, and it’s interesting to see the difference between her siblings. With her brother, it starts with chit-chat, sharing pleasant news, sometimes deep conversations about the meaning of life, and then finally, if he remembers, he presents Thorin with the favor or apology that he wants to make. With her sister, it’s straight to asking for favors and then, after the “vital” things have been discussed, they maybe have the energy to exchange niceties. 

> Frerin: Not much. Actually, Dís asked me to come by her house this week, but I kinda wanted to talk to you.
> 
> Thorin: What about? I can go to Dís’s, too.
> 
> Frerin: True… But I think sis won’t let us talk in private.

  
Worried, Thorin tries to think of a reason for them to speak in private, and only alarming scenarios come to mind. Although perhaps he could be short on money, and is too shy to ask Balin twice in a row (not that this has ever stopped him before.) Frerin is a bit of an oddball, but he’s so mellow and charming that people don’t mind his quirkiness. He’s much less present at the Durin folk reunions, preferring to relax and travel with his friends and partners, but she knows that from an outsider’s perspective, he’s seen as quite a family-focused dwarf. That isn’t enough to appease some of their living aunts and older cousins, but Thorin knows her brother tries his best to balance his life’s passions.

Maybe this is a good chance to ask for advice, too. Frerin’s told Thorin of his dalliances, long and short, and he’s known to be very sociable, not to mention much less awkward with the subject of intimate relationships than she is. He’ll probably be able to give insight with less judgment, unlike Dís. Being in love with a sex worker would not fit Dís’s idea of romance, or propriety, and Thorin doesn’t want to suffer with the tension, if she can avoid it. 

> Thorin: Then, we could meet tomorrow.
> 
> Frerin: Cool, come by my place. Just call first, lol
> 
> Thorin: I will. See you then.

She laughs to herself, thinking of the state of Frerin’s living room when she last came for a visit. Thorin finally feels the knot of tension vanish from her spine, and continues on with her day, replying normally to Bilbo, and setting a session for later tonight.

* * *

 

Another kind of anxiousness sets in her lower belly, a much more fluttery and happy kind, while she puts on one of her oil-stained sports bras for her session with Bilbo. It makes her proud, to think of how much more relaxed she’s feeling about this. The sensation of being just out of the shower, but actually dressing and looking forward to something intimate later in the evening is growing on her, and it’s almost already becoming a part of the low-burning flame of excitement of the sessions, even before meeting with the hobbit. There’s something ritualistic about it, looking at herself half nude in the mirror nailed to the door of her wardrobe, a thing she rarely used to do before going to the Parlor. It’s also a safe sensation, to be going somewhere to be touched, handled with care, for her own benefit, and seemingly for the pleasure of Bilbo, as well.

Once in the Pink Azalea Parlor, Thorin is received by Bluebell, and is asked to wait for Bilbo to be called downstairs to pick her up. The black-haired hobbit sits at the reception desk, and Thorin catches her curious gaze from time to time, while idly looking around the room. It makes her feel a bit self-conscious, especially since she’s wearing a skirt tonight. Thorin’s hands fidget with the black cotton fabric, making sure it hasn’t folded or rolled up during her trek there.

‘Good evening, Thorin!’ Bilbo’s familiar voice cuts through the momentary cloud of worry in Thorin’s mind. ‘Will you follow me upstairs?’

Bilbo comes down the steps, and Thorin can’t help but admire the sight of her. She’s wearing beige, white, and pink today, and everything looks quite comfortable and soft. It makes Thorin feel welcome, somehow...even if the glimpse of exposed stomach beneath the crop-top leaves Thorin clenching her fists. The combination of thin trousers (that seem to cling impossibly to Bilbo’s curves) and the cropped shirt is working like a magnet for Thorin’s hands.

‘Hello. Yes, I will, thank you.’ Thorin nods to Bluebell, and gets the feeling she’s being watched while climbing the stairs after Bilbo.

The grin on Bilbo’s face takes her mind off it, but they stop at a door that Thorin’s never been through before. It’s actually the only room on the upper floor that they’ve never been in together, besides the stand-alone bathroom right next to the stairs.

‘I hope you don’t mind this new setting. We’ll be more comfortable in this room for what I have in mind.’ Bilbo turns the knob and steps inside, standing off to the side so Thorin can have a look, still smiling widely.

Of all the rooms Thorin’s been inside, this is the most ordinary-looking one. It looks very much like a hotel bedroom, with a double bed (man-sized) a lamp on each side of it, and the same sort of sideboard seen in the rest of the Parlor. It’s relatively barren furniture-wise, but the bed steals the focus, adorned with subtle red and silver flower patterns that match the drawn curtains opposite to the door. Thorin doesn’t remember ever having seen open windows in the building, and wonders if it’s for the sake of privacy.

‘This is a lovely room,’ Thorin comments, stepping inside to allow Bilbo to shut the door and join her. ‘But these curtains remind me of a question I wanted to ask.’

Bilbo steps forward to stand close. ‘Oh? Tell me.’

‘I wanted to know if there are cameras or microphones inside the rooms.’ Thorin lowers her voice to ask and raises her eyebrows, trying to express concern without mentioning what happened yesterday, in case they were being recorded.

‘Oh, no! Of course not. We do have emergency mechanisms inside the rooms for the employees, that will call security, but the cameras stay outside.’ Bilbo gently leads Thorin to sit on the right side of the bed. It’s a firm mattress, but it bounces their bodies up and down with its sturdy springs. ‘There’s a section in the Terms of Service file stating that we’re conforming to the law, and not recording our clients. I’m sure you have a copy of that document for your own safety, don’t you?’

Thorin places her hand on top of Bilbo’s, which is still resting very comfortably on her fuzzy forearm. ‘I was worried about you, actually. Last night you seemed quite upset about working here, and I wondered if it’s because you don’t have the freedom to talk.’

The story told by expressions on Bilbo’s face is fascinating to watch, changing from befuddlement, to surprise, then realization, and finally, to a soft smile that Thorin doesn’t know what to call. ‘That’s... so sweet. Thank you for worrying. But I’m not having any problems in that regard. It was just an internal crisis, I think. I certainly need to think hard about what we discussed last night.’ A few moments of silence pass, where Bilbo watches Thorin’s eyes, before her neck twitches as if beginning to shake her head, but she sighs and gets up from the bed. ‘Anyway, if you don’t have any other questions, I wanted to ask if you’re willing to use a special kind of toy today.’

The blunt cut between subjects sends a clear message to Thorin, and she supposes it’s for the best that they do move on to less charged topics. Ever since last night, she’s feeling even less sure of how much of Bilbo’s personal life she’s received permission to share. And it’s been made obvious with the slightly awkward exchanges between them today, where Thorin is attempting to feel through the dark with her hands, it seems. Bilbo isn’t at all frail; Thorin knows she can take it, if they ever need to sort things out, in case they become even stiffer around each other. But for Thorin herself, it’s hard to take the risk to delve into difficult social matters. It’s much easier to play along, and talk about sex toys, intimacy, and pleasure.

‘Oh? What sort of toy?’ Thorin has to stamp down the mental pictures of leather masks and whips that are popping up. Not that she’d say no to playing with something new, but it just seems a bit sudden for them both. Maybe something less novel would do. The image of herself tied by the hands to a solid wooden headboard while Bilbo crawls on top of her body appears instead, pushing all other mildly uncomfortable ideas away from her brain, and Thorin feels herself getting hot in the face.

Her eventful train of thoughts is stopped by Bilbo walking back from the sideboard, proudly holding two very disjointed-looking toys in her hands. Both look like either jokes, or art sculptures. One of them is a mix of light pink and fuchsia, and it’s a very knobbly shape, almost like an “L,” but with a circular joint in the intersection of the two uneven shafts. The other one is black, and doesn’t have any visible joint, but shares the feature that one of the shafts is long, and the other is bulbous and thicker than the other. Looking at Bilbo’s expression, Thorin gets the feeling she should be just as excited as the hobbit seems to be, but she’s still very much not sure what the toys are for. Perhaps the bulbous end could be a sort of handle for the shaft of the dildo, so that it could be used differently from the other toys they’ve used before now.

‘Oh, hm.’ Thorin turns on her seat, trying to think of something to say that won’t make her feel silly and ignorant.

‘You’ve never seen these! Cor, I should’ve told you what they are. Sorry.’ Bilbo laughs, but turns around to grab a few more things to carry over to the bed. The handful of accessories she dumps next to Thorin is quite varied and a little alarming. Thorin’s eyes snap straight to the black harness covered in a selection of those odd L-shaped dildos, some less bizarre ones, and special condom packages.

‘It looks a tad kinky, doesn’t it?’ Bilbo comments while picking up the offending harness. ‘This thing is meant to hold a flare-based dildo onto a person’s hip, like this.’ She demonstrates how there’s a metal hoop in the middle of the straps, and inserts a more or less realistic shaft through. It looks quite funny, protruding out of her knee.

‘I see. That’s quite convenient,’ Thorin comments, feeling a little too innocent for a 39-year old. At least Bilbo doesn’t seem to mind her lack of knowledge, and is happily explaining the details. ‘But what are these for? Are those handles?’

‘Oh, no, no! These are double-ended dildos, right here.’ She picks the black L-shaped one to explain. ‘See, the fat bit goes inside one person, and the long one, inside the receiving partner. You can wear a harness to hold it in place, if you’d like, but this toy helps to create a connection while the wearer thrusts. It also usually comes with a little slot for a vibrator, which sits around where most people’s clits would while wearing it.’

Yet another new fact to blow her mind, given by Bilbo. Judging by the giggles, the hobbit enjoys the reaction on Thorin’s face very much. Thorin licks her lips, and rearranges in her seat. ‘So, uh. Which one of us wears it tonight?’

‘Whichever way you prefer, really. Although I suppose that since you haven’t done vaginal sex with partners, you’d find this a little daunting,’ Bilbo thoughtfully adds with a sniff.

Thorin would love to be on the receiving end, but agrees that she’d have to practice a little bit more with her own toy back home before moving to this sort of thing. The idea of bringing pleasure to Bilbo, however, is absolutely enough of a reason to want to wear it tonight. ‘I’ll do it. But you’ll have to guide me.’

Bilbo gasps and shoots up from the bed in excitement. ‘Oh, yes! I’m so eager to start! Could you go change in the bathroom? The robe is behind the door, as usual.’

With a smile, Thorin goes inside the bathroom. Bilbo’s rushing to put some of the toys on the nightstands when she closes the door. This one is actually different from the other two bathrooms she’s been inside: it has a round bathtub, and is much more spacious. Thorin leaves her clothes hanging on the hook, and takes a moment to check herself closely in the mirror. The white robe’s also begun to grow on her. It widens her shoulders, and it makes her feel regal, yet pleasantly round and soft. Her dark tresses contrast nicely with the stark white cotton, so Thorin lets her hair down for tonight.

Once back inside the main bedroom, Bilbo isn’t anywhere to be seen, but the bed is much tidier than before. The toys are on top of a towel, accompanied by a bottle of lube, which makes Thorin blush thinking of how she’ll be using it later.

Perhaps it’ll be calming to sit down and get acclimatized to the room, so Thorin sits on top of the soft sheets, her back resting against the large pillows propped against the headboard. While looking around her surroundings, all she can really think of is having Bilbo riding on her lap, and her hands are itching to map the hobbit’s skin once more. It’s barely been one day since their last encounter, but now that she’s been given access, it feels like a small blessing, to have part of what she so longs to have fully.

‘You’re already out! I stepped into the bathroom outside to freshen up, too,’ Bilbo says, closing the door silently behind herself, and surprising Thorin quite a bit. ‘Sorry, did I scare you?’

Sitting up with her back straight, Thorin shakes her head. ‘Not really. You’re just very silent, I didn’t hear you come in.’

Bilbo smiles and continues walking forward. Against Thorin’s expectations, she climbs the bed without ceremony, kneeling astride her naked hairy legs. ‘Hobbits are quite sneaky. Speaking of which, shall we begin?’

‘Yes. Alright.’ Thorin gulps, her eyes not knowing where to rest, having so many interesting points in Bilbo’s body to bask in. The silky fabric of Bilbo’s trousers cling to her small, wide thighs; and the top reveals an adorable sliver of her pale stomach. ‘I just… I hope I won’t disappoint, I’m quite nervous.’

Sitting back on Thorin’s thigh muscles, Bilbo lowers her torso to level her face down. ‘Darling, I don’t expect you to perform anything special. I’m perfectly happy to guide you through it all, and besides… It’s not like I’m depending on someone else’s biological endurance to take my pleasure, right?’

The tiny wink she gives makes Thorin laugh despite herself. ‘That’s true. Thank you.’

‘No need to thank me. And, of course, as usual, if you want us to stop, just say it, okay?’ Bilbo stretches forward to hold Thorin’s hands, bringing them to cup her squishy sides. They’re bare, since the crop top Bilbo is wearing ends right below her breasts.

‘I will,’ Thorin says, allowing her body to react more naturally to Bilbo’s command, and spreads her thick fingers to knead the skin with reverence, watching it dimple fetchingly. The proximity to her rib cage lets Thorin feel when Bilbo’s breathing quickens, her gaze following the movement upwards, towards the freckled cleavage, round chin, wide nose, until she sees that the hobbit is observing Thorin’s actions closely.

Without saying a word, Bilbo squirms and reaches behind herself to fiddle with something on her back. Thorin’s eyes widen when the top loosens and bunches up at Bilbo’s shoulders, then slides down and off her arms. The bra that’s (technically) covering the hobbit’s chest is made of a burgundy flowery sheer lace, and, from Thorin’s line of sight, it perfectly frames and brings attention to the rosy nipples underneath.

Thorin’s mouth waters, and her biceps jump while stopping her hands from flying up. It’s still difficult to know when she can or cannot take the lead, especially after last night’s conversation. It’d be awful to make Bilbo feel used, so Thorin looks up to see if there’s any indication of discomfort on that lovely face. With an immediate nod of approval from Bilbo, Thorin feels less like she’s taking advantage of the situation, and allows her entire torso to be dragged forward as if pulled by a magnet, and pushes her cheek against Bilbo’s chest.

It’s hard to care about the laughter echoing inside Bilbo’s body when Thorin feels so good, so perfect where she is. ‘I love the way you touch me, Thorin. And you’re adorable.’ The voice sounds quite loud with Thorin’s ear pressed to its source, and the message makes her cheeks warm. As a natural reaction, both her hands dig deeper on Bilbo’s hip, and bring her closer to Thorin.

‘Will you help me take my trousers off?’

She nods, her long hair getting caught in the rim of the bra cup. Bilbo can’t seem to stop giggling, her breast jumping against Thorin’s face, but she gingerly backs away to lift her bottom and undress. With one last sniff at Bilbo’s skin, Thorin also sits back, and hooks her hands on the nearly liquid-feeling trouser fabric, dragging them down all the way to Bilbo’s ankles. The motion she makes to pull the clothing off presents Thorin with the expanse of her belly, and the sight of matching panties hugging her pudgy hips.

Without realizing it, Thorin’s hands are already set on exploring, gently following the rich curves of Bilbo’s body, the tips of her fingers being led by curiosity, back towards her plump ass. She never knew it’d be such an intoxicating feeling, to touch a lover’s body like this, but Thorin can’t help herself from burrowing her nose against Bilbo’s stomach, and allowing her hands to cup the two silky cheeks fully. The flutters Thorin can feel against her face are still from the endless giggles Bilbo’s letting out, but she feels even calmer when both arms encircle her head: a sign of acceptance, that Bilbo’s still enjoying this.

Beneath her wide palms, Thorin notices that there’s a difference in temperature depending on where she’s touching. Closer to Bilbo’s back, the skin is slightly colder, but when her hands roam down, close to where bottom meets thighs, and beyond, it feels very warm (and compelling). It seems that it’s the case for both of them, since Bilbo shuffles forward, her knees rearranging wider around Thorin, and allowing the curious fingers to explore even further.

The elastic of the panties is comfortably soft and pliant, despite digging wedges into Bilbo’s flesh, and thus they allow Thorin’s thick fingers to meander underneath. As it was last night, the contact with Bilbo’s privates is an absolute thrill, making Thorin’s head tilts backwards to look at the hobbit’s impish face: half to see her reaction, and half to make sure it’s still fine to be doing this. Since her hands are coming from the back, Thorin’s fingers curiously stroke down along the middle of Bilbo’s cheeks, not expecting the sudden body shiver that follows. Bilbo’s face tells her that it was a shiver of delight, and Thorin can feel herself getting wet from the almost-silent gasp of pleasure she hears.

‘Do you... ‘ Thorin’s mouth is formulating the question without thought, and she berates herself for it. Hopefully she won’t make Bilbo uncomfortable. ‘Do you like it? Back here?’ Her right hand fingers ghost back up the divot, making Bilbo’s breath catch.

Biting her bottom lip, Bilbo hums. ‘Would it be too naughty to say that I do?’ She laughs, but seeing Thorin’s expression, she adds, ‘Of course, I wouldn’t jump into it so quickly with you! We can explore that later, and do it slowly.’

‘I see.’ Thorin gulps, and lets her fingers follow down the crease, velvety hairs making the way quite interesting. They reach a wide and warm break, the skin changing texture into something even more delicate, and suddenly, reaching a small rivulet of wetness in between the lips.

‘You have no idea how good you are at this, do you, Thorin? I rather think we’d better prepare you before we lose sight of our goal for tonight.’ Bilbo looks breathless and flushed in the chest. ‘Could you turn over? It’s been so long since I last gave you a proper massage, and I reckon it’ll be a good way to warm you up. Here, let me help you out of that robe.’

The sudden halt from the hyper-focused state Thorin had been in feels slightly dizzying, but she realizes that her body wanted to continue exploring Bilbo’s, and without the pause, she’d have gone through with whatever brought Bilbo to an orgasm. While she watches Bilbo cutely squeeze to the side to allow her to stretch on her back, Thorin wonders if this is what it truly means to have sex: to change paces for the sake of your partner’s wishes, in addition to respecting their consent. It’s new to her, especially since whatever media that discussed sex she’s been in contact with has presented it in a manner that makes it seem like the partners share a telepathic bond, with no need to say what they want to do, and that everything directs itself naturally, wordlessly.

Bilbo’s arms suddenly come into view next to her face while Thorin’s lying face-down on the bed, the mattress springs making them bounce together. Being torn from her introspective state, she realizes Bilbo is sitting on top of her lumbar, her squishy thighs blissfully holding Thorin in place.

‘I hope you won’t mind the dry massage. I don’t want to use oil and accidentally mix it with the lube we might use later, since it could damage the condoms.’ Bilbo’s voice comes bright and energetic from above Thorin. ‘Will you cross your arms beneath your face while I massage your neck?’

As fast as possible, Thorin’s arms move up, and she waits for the silky touch of Bilbo’s digits. It’s just as great as she remembers it: Bilbo knows exactly where to press to make Thorin sigh, even if her hands are dry and it makes their movement a bit jumpier, it still melts her spine in pure comfort. Following the line of her muscled shoulders, Bilbo’s clever fingers firmly travel below Thorin’s fuzzy arms, making her squirm. She hasn’t forgotten Thorin’s weak spots, it seems.

Bilbo’s palms move down, guiding Thorin’s arms to follow, and she lets her cheek rest against the laundry-scented duvet. Her small hands circle around her wide back with expertise, but much faster than the first sessions they’d had, and soon enough, they meet the small of Thorin’s back, where Bilbo’s bottom is resting warmly.

The massage was quick enough not to leave Thorin feeling too drowsy, especially when Bilbo drags herself backwards to sit atop Thorin’s thighs. ‘May I undress you?’

Thorin clears her throat. ‘Yes, please.’ Even though she’s feeling quite relaxed, it’s hard to have her intimate parts exposed without feeling a little bit self-conscious. It’s much easier around Bilbo, unmistakably, since she feels safe, and perhaps even desired by the hobbit. At least Thorin can let herself believe Bilbo’s praises, as much as they might sound like they’re a part of the service.

Soft hands travel again up Thorin’s stubbly back, expertly unhook her bra, and drag down to roll her boxers below the hip. Bilbo’s hands don’t hesitate before kneading the flesh all over, and finally grabbing at it, making Thorin smile. It’s such a funny concept, to have your ass grabbed, but it feels warm and pleasurable, so she tries not to laugh out loud and make Bilbo think she’s done wrong. One hand snakes between her thighs, making Thorin realize that she’s been guided to leave her legs slightly open by the way Bilbo’s sitting on the middle of them, leaving space for exploring. She distantly remembers Bilbo’s answer, that she does enjoy anal play, and Thorin can’t find the energy to feel worried about being surprised with that sort of thing right now. Perhaps she trusts Bilbo too much for needlessly worrying over it. Warm fingers stroke up and down along her fuzzy skin, and finally slip in between Thorin’s labia, the amount of slick there surprising both of them.

‘Oh, my. I can see you’re quite ready,’ Bilbo notes amusedly, but the way her fingers remain dancing on Thorin’s wet skin assures that it’s very much a welcome detail. ‘Would you sit up for me to equip the toy?’

Thorin groans, her body too comfortable lying down under a expert masseuse, but she props herself up anyway, taking a moment to kick her underwear away. As soon as her torso is upright, her legs folded, Thorin notices how Bilbo hasn’t backed away properly, but is actually waiting with her arms open for Thorin to lean into. It’s extraordinary how Bilbo can support her heavy weight, and also be the most pliable, cushioned person Thorin’s ever pressed against. She hadn’t noticed when Bilbo picked the toy up, but her pale hands come into view, holding the pink L-shaped dildo, already wrapped in a condom, and a small bottle of clear lube.

Bilbo’s warm breath hits Thorin’s shoulders, ‘Here, help me with this.’ She gestures for Thorin to support the toy in her palm, while Bilbo’s small fingers squeeze a drop of the liquid on the bulbous shaft pointing towards the ceiling, and drags them around sensuously to coat its rubbery surface. Funnily enough, it makes Thorin’s clit jump: even if the toy obviously isn’t connected to her body, it feels as though it is. Perhaps it’s the sight, it looks like Bilbo is giving her a handjob of sorts. ‘That’s good. If you put too much lube on, it’ll slip out too easily. I’d like you to test if you can wear the toy without the harness at first, just to see if it stays on. It’s less constricting that way.’

The way Bilbo talks seriously about the technical side of sex helps Thorin shake the blush away from her cheeks, and focus on getting herself ready. ‘Alright,’ she says, while the delicate hands reach down to slide the toy against Thorin’s opening, making her gasp. It’s a little cold, but it feels dreadfully exciting.

‘Does it hurt?’ The hobbit asks, but thankfully continues nudging it inside slowly all the same.

‘No, go ahead,’ Thorin opens her thighs a little further apart, looking down in curiosity. As soon as the round head drags past her outer muscles, the entire toy jumps inside easily, leaving Bilbo’s hand empty. Amazed, Thorin stares at her fake shaft, reveling in the ingenuity of it all. Her biological interest in the penis comes mostly from the desire to feel the rigidness of it, the volume and length of it, and a certain level of lack of control for one’s own libido. Thorin’s hand comes up to grip the pink toy, but she feels it tugging pleasantly against her inner walls. Bilbo is seemingly watching it happen, because as soon as Thorin’s head tilts to the side to comment on it, she’s already smiling up above Thorin’s shoulder.

‘Isn’t it great? It looks perfect on you.’ Bilbo’s voice vibrates against Thorin’s back, making her shiver.

It’s impossible peel her gaze from the way the hobbit’s hands sultrily squeeze one more drop of lubricant on the pink toy, pumping it up and down with the naughtiest of wet sounds. Every time Bilbo’s fist pulls it up, Thorin can feel a spark of pleasure bursting inside of her, and instinctively, her hips jut forward to follow the motion. The hot flush doesn’t ever vanish from her cheeks, but travels down to warm her chest with both embarrassment and excitement when she thinks of how they must look, kneeling together on a bed, wearing a dildo, humping the air. It’s fun.

‘I can’t wait. Would you lie on your back? Can I… can I _ride_ you, Thorin?’ Bilbo sounds tense with eagerness, her right hand restlessly petting Thorin’s thigh, as if she needed to be coaxed into it.

‘Do it. I _want_ you to.’ Thorin doesn’t need to be asked twice before she’s twisting herself to lie belly-up on the bed, pulling Bilbo along, who comes happily, giggling. ‘Please, Bilbo.’

With her chest heaving with excitement and mirth, Bilbo shakes her head as if Thorin had done something priceless. ‘Have I found one of your fantasies, at last?’

If her face is even redder, Thorin can’t tell, from how hot it’s been for a good while now. ‘Maybe.’

‘Well, I love it. I’ll gladly participate,’ Bilbo comments while lowering herself on Thorin’s stomach, perhaps afraid she’ll knock the air out of the dwarf. When she notices it isn’t causing pain, Thorin can feel her curvaceous thighs relax, and Bilbo takes Thorin’s hands to cup her breasts above the lacy bra. ‘I hope you won’t mind if I take my own underwear off, I’m a little impatient.’

‘As long as you don’t mind my hands. They become a bit rebellious when they touch your skin,’ Thorin babbles, watching her thumbs idly pinch Bilbo’s puffy nipples into peaks.

Laughing, Bilbo squirms against Thorin. ‘Your hands are welcome to keep doing whatever they’ve been doing until now. They’re quite talented.’

A dumb smile plasters itself on Thorin’s face as Bilbo masterfully slips her panties to the side and lifts her bottom to gradually sit on the toy. Thorin’s throat dries, and her eyes widen at the sight. Her thick fingers are still holding Bilbo’s heavy breasts, but her eyes are staring, unblinking, at the pale hand grasping at the lace, as if it was a curtain to the mound of curly ginger hair, and the glistening bright pink shaft disappearing inside of that powerful body.

‘Oh. _Wow…’_ Thorin comments insightfully, her own body thrumming with need just by watching Bilbo lower herself on her lap. It doesn’t take too long until Bilbo groans and lifts herself back up, only to continue swallowing the toy down after a small pause. Keeping her torso down is an effort Thorin has to consciously make, since all her body seems to want to do is tense up, grab, hold. But the view is worth the exertion: Bilbo’s breasts molded around her fingers; her bulky stomach a beautiful pear shape; legs spread around Thorin. And best of all, the happiest, most playful expression on her flushed face, staring down at Thorin, as if she’s just reached the exact same conclusions in her own mind.

One huge sigh escapes Bilbo’s upturned lips when she bottoms out, her arms once more reaching behind herself to loosen the bra clasps, and once she’s free from the straps, she leans back against Thorin’s knees. It’s a crime to not appreciate any of this, Thorin thinks, so she yanks a plump pillow from the pile of cushions near the head of the bed, and puts it under her head to have a better angle to watch Bilbo from.

As if they’re missing being in contact with the hobbit’s skin, Thorin’s palms feel as if they’re tingling, and she lets them rest wherever they can reach. They end up lying above the delicate skin of Bilbo’s inner thighs, and this brings Thorin’s gaze to focus on the entrancing triangle between her legs. Looking up at Bilbo’s face, Thorin receives a nod of approval. Perhaps this shrewd Hobbit understands more of Thorin’s intentions than Thorin herself.

Thorin’s right hand drags forward, the heat of Bilbo’s crotch serving as an emphatic force of attraction. She’s awfully curious about the way Bilbo’s body is engulfing the shaft, so she slides her fist around the wet toy, caressing the squishy folds around it, barely noticing how Bilbo had risen up to make way for her research. Thorin indulges her unruly hand for a moment longer, and then lets it slide upwards along the wettest stretches of skin, finally allowing Bilbo’s bulging clit to slip between her index and middle fingers.

‘Thorin… Please,’ Bilbo asks while her hips jump forward at the touch.

It makes Thorin salivate, the way she can play with Bilbo’s nub, watch it hide from view when she presses it a certain way, and hear it squelch quietly inside her grip. Bilbo seems to enjoy it, too, since her body keeps twitching back and forth, dragging the toy around inside Thorin, making the moment exponentially more intense.

Bilbo’s head falling to rest on her right shoulder catches Thorin’s eye, and she looks as if she’s in a trance: her hands travel up to fondle her own nipples, her hips undulate to maintain contact Thorin’s fingers, and increasingly, her bottom rises up and down to fuck herself on Thorin’s shaft.

The gasp Thorin accidentally lets out has Bilbo opening her eyes, but not stopping her hypnotic ride.

‘Here, plant your feet on the mattress, and lift your hips to meet me, too,’ she says, rearranging her long feet around Thorin. ‘See how it feels.’

It’s a little awkward, especially with how Thorin’s never really had the necessity to repeatedly raise her hips like this. While masturbating, sometimes her body will tense into a pose similar to this, but never from her own conscious effort. The first thrusts are a bit too wide, and Bilbo’s hand flies down to align herself with the toy again, since it popped out. Afraid of accidentally hurting Bilbo, Thorin nearly stops trying altogether, but the flushed hobbit continues to guide her with gentle hands, words, and mimicking the thrusts against Thorin’s hip. It takes a few tries, but soon, it starts to feel more like a well-oiled machine, and Bilbo is able to lift her hands away, smiling.

Thorin feels a rush of joy when Bilbo lets out a squeak of bliss, remembering from the stickiness of her three fingers that they were doing quite well around her partner’s clit. The pride in her chest swells even further when Bilbo squeezes her eyes shut, still smiling, and holds Thorin’s fist in place, wedged between her legs, while her breasts bounce with the rhythmic pushes of Thorin’s hips.

‘Oh, oh, my goddess. Thorin… Don’t stop.’

Not even for money would Thorin ever dream of stopping, the rush of happiness from a job well-done giving way to a more physical sort of pleasure: Bilbo angles her torso backwards, making the dildo bump beautifully inside Thorin, causing her to groan.

‘My, I’ve forgotten to turn the vibrator on!’ Bilbo says, expertly gripping Thorin’s hips with her body weight and surprisingly strong thighs as a way to pause their movement. After a moment of Bilbo fiddling behind herself, Thorin feels a click reverberate through her bones, and then a muted vibration starts, not as sharp as the other toys she’s tried before, but it presses against her clit area, adding a level of pleasure to it all. ‘If you don’t want it on, let me know.’

‘I will,’ Thorin says, enthusiastically rearranging herself to thrust into Bilbo once more.

Not even one second after Bilbo’s sat up, Thorin’s already back to a gradual rhythm, reaching the same speed from before, and making the hobbit laugh and moan, holding her breasts still from bobbing around. ‘You’re! So! Eager! Ah, such…! A good! Girl!’ Her voice comes erratic from being lifted with each push, and apparently from the excitement, since Thorin’s fingers nearly slide away from Bilbo’s clit, it being so wet.

On instinct, Thorin’s arms come up to hold Bilbo as she falls forward, but it’s purposefully done: she’s apparently tired of holding herself up, and props her arms up around Thorin’s head on the mattress. Their height difference makes the hobbit line up with Thorin’s chest, but it doesn’t stop her from the steady rhythm with her hips. However, the way they’re angled makes the toy squeeze against Thorin’s clit, and the vibration becomes much stronger, provoking Thorin to start panting.

Bilbo is watching intently, breathing heavily, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, the slapping sound even louder to Thorin’s ears, and how it matches the bounce of Bilbo’s chest. Her hands come up to hold the flushed breasts, their owner hissing with pleasure when Thorin pinches and pulls them softly between thrusts. It’s the least she can do, now that it’s quite impossible to squeeze her arm between them to play with Bilbo’s clit. Thorin wonders if the panties Bilbo’s still wearing aren’t getting in the way, or perhaps they’re soft enough not to cause discomfort.

The pattern of clapping skin never quickens, but Bilbo’s voice gets louder with each rise of Thorin’s hips, sending a direct current of electricity to her nerves. It doesn’t get less exciting with the expression of unabashed ecstasy on Bilbo’s freckled face, or the way her breasts mold themselves to Thorin’s fingers, jiggling as their bodies smack together.

It scares Thorin for a moment, however, when Bilbo’s neck stretches up, her mouth open, but no air coming out: her entire ribcage seems to swell with an unreleased breath, her chest becomes even redder, and her entire being seems to still. It nearly makes Thorin stop her hips, but the next thrust has Bilbo moaning breathily, loudly, her head coming back down from the first orgasmic wave, eyes shut. Her legs twitch while her feet arch and tremble with pleasure, her bottom rising from its seat on Thorin’s lap to quiver while she holds herself up. It finishes very soon, but it’s astonishing: Thorin thinks she’ll never forget the thrill of Bilbo sitting sloppily back down, not on the toy, but splashing her fuzzy stomach with slick in the process, and panting loudly above her.

‘Oh… god… I… _just…!’_ Bilbo tries to formulate, but it’s not necessary, since Thorin knows she just came.

‘I saw it. It was gorgeous,’ Thorin lets it slide, but feels less self-conscious about the intimacy than she might have felt once, now that she isn’t afraid of hiding her fondness anymore.

Bilbo pants a few times before replying, ‘But maybe it was a little too fast?’ She swallows, sits up to comb her sweaty hair from her forehead, and leans forward again. ‘I should’ve started with you!’

Remembering their previous sessions, Thorin looks guiltily to the side and mumbles, ‘We could keep on going?’ Bilbo told her that she likes to continue, even if she’s already had her turn.

Bilbo’s eyes widen for a second, but then she’s soon laughing heartily. ‘I’m being spoiled! Did you really enjoy doing this?’ At Thorin’s answering smile, Bilbo adds, ‘You’re perfect, Thorin.’

While they catch their breath, Thorin gets lost in the pleasant silence between them. Bilbo is still propped on her arms, face impossibly close to Thorin’s. Her heart hammers in her chest, this time from the anticipation that she’ll be kissed by Bilbo. The sea of endorphin and hormones in her bloodstream is making Thorin’s throat tighten, and her face feel even hotter than before. She probably looks like a mess, but Bilbo is staring at her with gentle, admiring eyes. One glance at Thorin’s lips, and Bilbo is smiling, but lifting herself away.

‘Well, how about you going on top this time? I’ll help you put the harness on.’

A fuzzy, confused cloud of thoughts invades Thorin’s brain wIhile they set up for their next activities, and she barely realizes when they’re ready to go, the harness hugging her hips, and holding the toy in place. Bilbo seems to be glad to sit back and guide Thorin to kneel, her legs open, a dark, wet spot painting the bottom of the lacy panties. Her thoughts aren’t allowing her to really ground herself in the present, so she shakes her head, and decides to think about the reason they haven’t kissed later. She’s had this internal dilemma before. It’s probably nothing... they’ve done so many intimate things now, maybe Bilbo’s clients just didn’t really want to kiss, and she isn’t sure Thorin would want it at all.

The hobbit is burrowing down into the duvet with her back, her hands fluffing a pillow, while she waits, knees wide apart, hairy feet dangling in the air and bracketing Thorin’s stomach. Following her instincts, Thorin reaches down to drag Bilbo’s red panties up and off, making her giggle.

‘Give me your hand,’ Bilbo says, her voice commanding. It makes Thorin feel tingly all over, and she doesn’t know if it’s from the low tone, or the authoritative message.

Her finger is still tacky with Bilbo’s wetness, so it slides more easily deep inside her entrance. It’s scorchingly hot, and it seems to be tighter than Thorin herself, from what she remembers of trying to finger herself. One digit is enough to come into contact all around Bilbo’s circumference, and feel the silky surface inside. Thorin remembers the early lessons she was taught, and hooks her middle finger up, trying to find the G-spot in Bilbo’s body. It takes a few moments, but Bilbo seems to be patiently watching. Bringing her elbow back a few centimeters, Thorin finds it, near the opening, a little rougher in texture, and more swollen than the rest. Bilbo doesn’t jump or moan from the contact, but she smiles triumphantly, as if Thorin had just passed a fictional test.

‘Now you know where to aim at, when from that position. Try not to go too hard, since it’s easier to lose control and, you know.’ Bilbo is petting Thorin’s chest, her fingertips ghosting around the nipples, making Thorin shudder.

‘Hurt you,’ Thorin completes, her face going serious.

‘Yeah. I’ll push you back if you’re going too deep, so don’t worry. You’re doing great.’ Bilbo’s warm feet stroke Thorin’s sides, calling her forward.

Concentrating, Thorin maneuvers the still-vibrating pink toy, while shuffling closer to Bilbo. It’s more controllable now with the harness providing support, and soon, both her knuckles and the tip of the toy hook onto Bilbo’s opening. Slowly, and barely daring to breathe, Thorin leans to her left, her arm holding half of the weight of her torso to the side, so she can freely (shakily) press forward.

‘Like this…?’ Thorin asks, nervously looking up to see Bilbo’s relaxed expression.

‘Yes. Come on, you can do it! I’ll hold it in place if it slips out.’ Bilbo’s hand comes to rest on her curls, which are sticking together with her own moisture.

Alternating between watching Bilbo’s face, and the fascinating sight of her own patch of black curls coming forward, the toy vanishing between swollen-looking labia, Thorin quickens her movements. It’s actually much harder than what they did previously, Thorin having to find a comfortable position for her knees, wrists, and feet, while at the same time being careful not to slip out, or poke Bilbo painfully.

Leaning forward on her arms is the easiest way, and it makes her clit come in contact with the vibrating section of the toy; but Bilbo seems to gasp and squirm beautifully when Thorin leans back on her haunches, and uses the flexibility and strength of her hips to drive forward. Obviously, she goes with what Bilbo reacts best to, enjoying the view of her soft belly bouncing, and the return of the fetching flush between her full breasts.

‘Oh, oh… Thorin, there. You’ve got it.’ Bilbo’s fingers snake down to circle and tug at around her clit, much harder than Thorin would have ever dared to handle her.

Something makes Bilbo’s leg twitch, and by the expression on her face, it’s from pain. ‘Is it too rough? I…’

Bilbo shakes her head, her shaggy curls becoming even messier against the pillowcase. ‘No, oh, no! It’s just that keeping my legs open for too long hurts a little at the hips.’

Somehow, it makes Thorin feel flustered to look down at their touching sexes and finally realize what they’re doing. But still, she takes Bilbo’s thighs and presses them together, pointing up, straight, to rest against her shoulder. ‘Will this help?’

Giggling, and smiling from ear to ear, Bilbo nods. ‘Yeah, ah. Ah…’ Her giggles soon become gasps once Thorin resumes thrusting, and it seems to be even more intense than when Bilbo had her knees apart. The gasps turn into groans, then, into moans, and finally, into long, loud wordless pleas. Without warning, Bilbo’s arms fly up to clutch at the fluffy pillows with desperation - matted swirls of light red hair covering her pits catch Thorin’s sight - and she’s trembling, rubbing her bottom wildly against Thorin’s hips, her legs twitching in their tight grip. The same sort of orgasm from before seems to be wrecking her again: it’s quick, and makes the hobbit go silent and quiver while staying in place. It’s different from the ones Thorin’s had, it seems, since she’ll usually grind down on her hand and ride the waves until they’re over. This is sudden, like a shout, and a bit of a surprise, seemingly for both of them.

Thorin’s still thrusting, but Bilbo doesn’t make any sign of wanting her to stop, so Thorin just leans forward to rest her calves while watching the face below. Bilbo’s light lashes are clinging together from squeezing her eyes shut after two orgasms, her thin lips bitten red, dark blotches of color painting her cheeks.

‘Heavens, Thorin…’ She mutters, finally opening her dark eyes to roam around Thorin’s body. It isn’t too out of view, since her torso is much longer than Bilbo’s, and it towers over her. ‘That was something else.’

Lazy fingers come up to softly strum at Thorin’s pebbled nipples, each soft caress making her squeeze around the bulbous toy, her hips answering with an involuntary twitch forward, and she needs to consciously anchor them down as to not hurt Bilbo accidentally.

‘Oh, Bilbo,’ Thorin whispers. At the sound of her name, the hobbit groans and bites her lip again, her legs stretching behind Thorin to hook around each other.

Her knuckles play with both of Thorin’s nipples, and she keeps looking up and down from the dwarf’s face, to where their hips meet and slap wetly together. Something Bilbo does with her ankles makes her entire body glue to Thorin’s, and the vibration finally gets to her. It’s as if it suddenly just begins, and it makes her legs shake, the rhythm of the thrusts compromised by the instinct of rutting against Bilbo and chasing the feeling.

Beneath her, Bilbo seems to understand what’s happening, and instead of changing her position, she teases Thorin’s skin with her clever hands, barely brushing against the tips of her nipples. She’s too smart for her own good, Thorin thinks, while trembling and gasping loudly. Light contact is a hundred times more exciting than a firm pinch, for Thorin. With her heavy hands, she finds it hard to do it to herself when masturbating, but somehow Bilbo knows all about it, and is proficient at it.

‘Hmm... Oh, love, you’re almost _there,_ I can feel it. Just look at you, desperate to fuck me. I can’t wait to have you, though. I can’t begin to imagine how beautiful you’ll look, on your knees. Legs open for me.  All mine. You’re _mine_ right now, aren’t you?’ Bilbo’s voice comes low but proud, and this pulls at Thorin’s groin, it makes her pulsate with lust. ‘Come for me, let me see you. _Come on.’_

Letting out a huge breath, Thorin’s voice comes with, unfiltered, raw with need, echoing loudly against the walls, while she holds onto Bilbo’s shoulders and squeezes their hips together. She can feel herself fluttering around the thick head of the toy, each spasm making the entire shaft move, causing her pleasure to keep on surging, wave after wave. Bilbo’s arms are cradling her head, and petting her long hair, and Thorin can hear her sigh and moan along. Everything is reason enough for Thorin’s orgasm to keep on going, especially with Bilbo being so passionate beneath her, chest heaving, voice strained.

But soon, the shivers diminish, Bilbo releases her from the hot and sweaty grip of her legs, and she’s left panting, arms struggling to keep her up. A hand comes between her thighs, pulling the toy from inside them both, and dextrous fingers snap the harness open. As if it were a trigger for her muscles to give way, Thorin slumps forward on top of Bilbo, panting heavily.

Her head is comfortably lying on a squishy chest, and one that smells wonderful, familiar, and delicious. Thorin’s eyes close, and she nearly drifts to sleep while her hair is combed by gentle fingers, their tips coming to scratch softly against her scalp from time to time. Long minutes pass before Thorin realizes she’s using Bilbo as a pillow, and she makes to get up.

‘Let’s stay like this a little longer. Please.’

Thorin is kept down by the loosest of grips, and something in Bilbo’s voice makes her heart hurt.

‘...Can we go out for a date later this week?’ Thorin hears her own gritty voice half muted by the way her ear is covered by Bilbo’s breast. ‘I mean, if you have the time. And want to.’

Feeling the hobbit’s belly jump from laughter is nearly as pleasurable as everything they’ve done tonight. ‘Of course we can, darling.’

No, better still is having Bilbo to only stop petting Thorin’s tresses to embrace her head softly, and plant a kiss on her crown.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank everyone for reading/following this fic so far! I'm very happy about the responses to it, and I feel very encouraged to finish this piece (as it's almost over!). And maybe, in the future, writing more!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A major thank-you to my wonderful betas, mithrilbikini and mcmanatea! You're both amazing!

‘Dude, sis… that’s just… _wild._ ’ A long stream of smoke pours from Frerin’s lips, making him squint when it hits his face on the way up, his eyes watering. ‘I mean, it’s great! I’m stoked for you! But nowhere in a million years would I have expected…’

Thorin can’t help but laugh, the heavy weight of a secret finally dislodged from her chest. Perhaps the mirth comes partly from the puffs of pipe-weed she has inhaled since the beginning of the night, but sharing this story does make her feel truly happy. It’s definitely surprising how easy it feels to tell Frerin the entire tale of how she met Bilbo, obviously sparing quite a few details.

‘Well, I can’t believe it either.’ Thorin receives the intricate wooden pipe from Frerin’s hands, and swallows a gulp of smoke. ‘Especially the part where Balin was the instigator.’

At that, Frerin starts cackling, his torso falling back on the scattered cushions on the floor. ‘Don’t even… remind me…!’ Both his hands fly up to cover his mouth, and the laughter looks slightly painful, by the way his stomach jumps and down erratically. ‘Cousin Balin, what have you been doing in your off hours…’

The mental picture of Balin being massaged sensually isn’t enough to keep Thorin from laughing. ‘I suppose I’m no one to judge, at this point.’ The smoke covers Thorin’s view while she sighs, but she can feel Frerin leaning in closer.

‘But sis… It looks to me like you’ve fallen in love with this Bilbo pretty early on.’ His arms hug his lean chest, as if warding off the cold. ‘I’m not saying that whatever Bilbo does isn’t good, you know. I’m just saying that you aren’t a bad person for having had paid sex. Nor is cousin Balin, for that matter. It’s just unexpected.’

Frerin’s words make the burden of guilt both lighter and heavier on Thorin’s chest. Realizing she had fallen in love with Bilbo so early in their journey is scary to hear - and Thorin knows that this will need to be pondered over carefully, when she’s by herself - but not being judged for enjoying the service is immensely relieving.

‘Thank you, little brother.’

He smiles as he passes the pipe back to Thorin, seeming to understand how her words work on two levels: a thanks for passing the pipe, and appreciation for his support. Her lungs seize at the vice grip of Frerin’s arms around her stomach, hugging her tightly, suddenly, out of affection. It doesn’t make coughing the smoke out less uncomfortable, though.

‘Are you planning on telling her, Thorin?’ His voice, muffled by Thorin’s jacket, comes somewhere from the middle of her back. Frerin calling her by her name doesn’t usually mean he’s trying to be serious, but something in the way he’s waiting for her response makes Thorin sober up.

‘Yes. It’s silly, but I’ve been preparing her gifts. And we have a date next week. I’m planning on telling her then.’ Saying it out loud makes Thorin’s insides clench with nerves.

Frerin’s arms tighten even more, and the sound that comes from his throat is guttural and giddy. ‘Ahh!’ His head presses against Thorin’s side, the twisting of his bushy head left to right making her bark out a laugh from ticklishness. ‘Tell me how it goes, sis. And don’t feel like I’m not here for you if anything happens, alright?’

‘I know, I won’t. Thank you.’ She’s pulled down for a slightly painful forehead kiss, and then shoved backwards again. Huffing, and smoothing down her hair and clothes, Thorin sits up. ‘Alright, that’s enough! Tell me what you wanted to say, before I go home.’

Frerin’s left leg sluggishly rises up to cross over his right, and he can barely keep the smile from his eyes while fiddling with the pipe, and looking at Thorin. ‘...I have nothing. I tricked you, to make you visit me, and share your secrets.’

After a stunned second, analyzing Frerin’s face to see if he’s hiding something, Thorin snorts, and feigns offence. ‘You little…!’ She gets up on her knees, both arms in the air - the same way they used to begin wrestling back when they were pebbles - and Frerin’s immediately crawling away, wheezing with laughter.

 

* * *

 

Locking her phone for the third time in the last minute, Thorin foolishly looks up at the clock hanging on the wall to check the time. Her knees, restless, bounce up and down, but her body changes its mind, and she’s up on her feet, pacing back and forth. Thorin’s jeans rub against her thigh in a way that makes her think it’s a message notification. Checking the screen, she confirms yet again that the last communication from the hobbit was fifteen minutes ago, saying her nephew asked her to stay a little longer. Thorin’s heart melts upon re-reading the message, but soon, she’s back to pacing between her bedroom and the living room window, as if staring at the curb outside at dusk would reveal someone waiting for her.

Bilbo’s very late.

It’s not her fault, really. They had set the date to “late Wednesday evening,” which is a very imprecise appointment, but Bilbo had said she would be visiting her cousin in the afternoon after a morning shift at the Parlor, and couldn’t promise to be exactly on time.

Perhaps glancing at the plastic bag with her gifts lying on top of the counter is making Thorin even more anxious about the lateness. Even though Bilbo has been sending her constant texts, reassuring that their date will still be on if she’s late, Thorin’s feeling a rock slide tumbling down inside her belly. Despite her nervousness, she feels tonight would be a great time to confess her feelings. It’s all been mapped in her head, how they’ll go to the restaurant, drink her favorite red wine, have dessert, and then right before bidding Bilbo a good night in front of her door in Bag End, Thorin will give her the gifts, and say the truth.

While nervously grooming herself in front of the bathroom sink, Thorin feels her heartbeat in her throat, mentally rehearsing the confession. She barely notices the vibration against her thigh, while gesticulating and watching her reflection on the mirror. In her haste to fish the device out of her pocket to read, she nearly drops every brush from the marble counter, but catches the phone before it’s flung to the floor.

 

> Bilbo: I’m almost done here!
> 
> Bilbo: I’m so sorry about the delay. My little cousin is showing me how he writes our names.

Thorin waits for the picture attachment to load while walking towards the living room, and there’s a picture of a rumpled piece of paper filled with shaky repetitions of “Frodo” and “aunt Bilbo,” often misspelled as “ont Bilbo.” The correctly-written ones are circled with red ink, and adorned with a red star, or “Good Job!” and a tiny heart. Sitting down on the sofa, Thorin relaxes back, smiling.

 

> Bilbo: I usually don’t care much for children, but this one is going to kill me! He started crying when I said I needed to go home. (◞‸◟；)
> 
> Thorin: He sounds very smart. And it’s alright. The restaurant seems to be open until 10pm.
> 
> Bilbo: Oh, thank god. I’ll try to be out in 15, then, so there’s time for me to take the bus to your place.
> 
> Bilbo: He’s playing with my heart, this one. He’s climbed on my lap on his own volition. Not even my cat does that.
> 
> Bilbo: ʕ·͡ᴥ·ʔ ⸜₍๑•⌔•๑ ₎⸝ ( •⌄• ू )✧

Frowning at the screen, Thorin imagines the tiny, red-cheeked child he’s seen in Bilbo’s pictures sitting comfortably on her lap, asking her aunt to add emoticons to her messages.

 

> Bilbo: Sorry, that was him.
> 
> Thorin: I figured. I just don’t understand what they are, again.
> 
> Bilbo: Don’t be so uncultured, Thorin. Those were obviously a bear, a bird, and a smirking chubby guy.

That makes Thorin laugh out loud. These snarky comments are rare, but Thorin loves to hear them from Bilbo.

 

> Thorin: Noted. Lol.

Feeling much less antsy, Thorin turns on the television to watch the news while waiting for Bilbo to contact her again. While replying to Dwalin (who’s soon coming to visit), she doesn’t notice how time flies by.

 

> Bilbo: I’m done here! I’m getting ready, but I don’t know if I’m going to make it in time.

Blinking, and frowning at the clock on the wall, Thorin sees that it’s 8:40. The bus is dreadfully slow, so even if Bilbo rode from Bag End to Thorin’s house, she’d arrive too late. Her family’s house seems to be a long way from the restaurant, too.

 

> Thorin: Oh, I can pick you up by car, maybe it’ll be faster. Give me the address.
> 
> Bilbo: Would you? Ah, thank you so much, darling. Here…

Pasting the address into her phone GPS, and gargling on one last cup of mouth rinse, Thorin rushes out of her apartment, and lets the digital voice lead her car southward, to where Bilbo is. It’s a much different neighborhood than hers, or the one around Bilbo’s house. The streets are unnaturally organized into straight angles - a great contrast, especially after going through a meandering, inviting, rich hobbit neighborhood - and the small apartment buildings look much more functional and economical than pleasant to the eye.

She spots Bilbo waiting right below a lonely street light, her breath forming clouds of condensation like a halo over her head. Lowering the car window, Thorin points forward to say she’s turning the car around to pick Bilbo up. The hobbit cheerfully waves back, and sticks one gloved thumb upwards.

Slowly stopping next to the curb, Thorin releases the locks on the car doors, and Bilbo shuffles forward, apparently trying to protect her bare knees from the chill.

‘Hiya! I’m really so sorry I’m late, Thorin.’ Bilbo says, while dropping her weight into the passenger seat, and arranging her clothes and bag around her body. She shivers, but smiles up at Thorin, and reaches forward to clutch her hand. ‘Hi!’

‘Hi. Are you cold? I think I have an extra coat somewhere in the back…’ Thorin tries to bend herself backwards to look at the dark backseat, while letting Bilbo hold her hand.

‘Oh, no, it’s alright! I think the car heater is going to be enough. Thank you!’ Bilbo leans forward to place a quick peck on Thorin’s hand, and then sits back to fasten the safety belt.

Staring dumbly ahead, Thorin wonders how long she can leave her hand untouched, so as not to forget the feeling of Bilbo’s lips on her skin. ‘We should, um. Get going, then. The place is close to my house.’

‘Yeah, sure!’ Bilbo rummages through her handbag, and picks her phone up. She pauses for Thorin’s GPS app to finish giving instructions, and eagerly says, ‘let me show you some pictures from today!’

Bilbo waits until the first red light to point the screen in Thorin’s direction. Picking it up briefly, she sees the picture of a hobbit couple: one of them with sharp features, large blue eyes, and the other with long curly hair, and a round, happy face. ‘Scroll right, there’s pictures of little Frodo.’ Thorin had already seen him before in pictures, but they were always of him alone, either drawing or sleeping. These were probably taken by his parents, so Bilbo was included in them, and Frodo seems delighted, hugging her arm or kissing her cheek. Looking up to see Bilbo’s face in the low light reveals her gazing at the snapshots with a deep crease between her eyebrows, and a defeated tilt in her smile.

A honk behind them alerts Thorin that the light’s turned green again, and she tries to be quick, but gentle in giving the phone back. ‘You seem to really love them,’ Thorin comments absent-mindedly, while focusing her attention back on the road.

‘Yeah. I try to visit them every chance I get, but they live so far from me.’ She’s looking out the window, but the blur of cheaply-constructed houses and buildings is all Thorin can see from the driver’s seat. ‘As you might have noticed from the neighborhood, their financial situation isn’t the best, either. So I end up spending a lot of money in gifts for them, as well. Especially for Frodo.’

Thorin nods, her chest swelling in fondness for Bilbo. ‘I’m sorry. It’s a pity they don’t live with you, then. You would be able to see Frodo more often.’

The silence makes Thorin risk a glance to her right, and the sight of Bilbo staring, stunned, back at her is enough to make her head swing quickly right for another look. ‘What? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. I just never thought of that, somehow.’

Chuckling, Thorin comments, ‘The Durin line has always lived together, so I thought hobbits didn’t do that, when I visited you. I assumed hobbits only live with closer relatives.’

‘We don’t, usually, unless it’s a big household. The Brandybucks all live in one smial complex in the West, for example. But my family lives, and has always lived, far from each other, so that idea had never crossed my mind.’

‘Yeah? You told me before that you don’t have any siblings, so was it only you and your parents living in your house?’ Thorin’s brain doesn’t stop her mouth in time before asking, so she hears her own fists closing around the wheel in frustration, making the plastic whine. She hopes it won’t offend Bilbo.

‘Only my mom, my dad, and me, yes. It was nice, though, especially since we had plenty of visits from aunts, cousins, and neighbors. Back when I was in school, my friends lived around Bagshot Row, so it was never really that lonely. It was only when they started building train stations and shopping malls near my neighborhood that most people I knew moved away because of the prices, and now it’s in that isolated situation that you saw.’ Bilbo’s propping her head up with her wrist, and a quick look tells Thorin that she doesn’t seem offended, only perhaps nostalgic, and rightfully bitter.

‘I see. The neighborhood is quite beautiful, though. As is Bagshot Row. But financial interest ruins so many good things.’

‘It really does. But it’s going to be all fine. You’ve given me hope!’ Bilbo says, looking at Thorin while they’re waiting for the green light. They share a look in silence, and Thorin can feel her heart skipping a beat.

Opening her mouth to speak, Thorin wants to start confessing, but is alerted back to driving once more by an impatient horn. ‘I, uh… I’m glad, then. I keep thinking about what you told me that night in your house. I wanted to help, somehow.’

Bilbo takes a second to react. ‘You’re a darling, Thorin. Thanks for thinking of me.’

Her face flushing, Thorin’s glad they’re a few meters away from their destination already. The place is on the left side of the road, so Thorin keeps glancing back and forth from the road ahead: she can’t risk missing a parking spot, since the street usually packed with cars. But a hiss comes through her teeth when she notices that the doors to the restaurant are closed. It’s already past 10.

‘Bad news. We’re too late.’ Thorin says, pulling over next to a curb on the right. Bilbo’s neck stretches up to try to see better.

‘Oh, no!’ Bilbo says, when she finally finds the entrance to the closed restaurant. ‘Damn, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine.’ Thorin shrugs, but her mind goes to the carefully-packaged gift hidden beneath her coat in the backseat, and how she was looking forward to showing Bilbo her favorite dishes. ‘We could do it another time,’ she says, not even trying to hide the sadness in her voice.

She sees Bilbo’s arm twitch from the corner of her eye, before the hobbit suddenly sits up, one leg folded to the side, so she can face Thorin directly. ‘We could. But we still can have a date tonight, can’t we?’

‘How do you mean?’ Thorin thinks she isn’t ready to knock on the door of a closed restaurant, as much as she loves their food.

‘We could get some takeaway, buy wine, and have it at your place. That is, if you’re okay with me visiting your house.’ Bilbo’s expressive hands catch Thorin’s attention, and her eyes follow them around while Bilbo excitedly presents her plan, but she has to quickly look away from the shadowy gap between her spread thighs out of respect. ‘I know a lovely place, it’s only two blocks from here. And the supermarket is open all night long, isn’t it?’

It’s not the worst idea: Thorin had cleaned the apartment earlier in the week, so it’s still presentable; they wouldn’t have to worry about closing hours; and she could give Bilbo a ride home when they were done.

‘I suppose.’ Thorin noticed she was picking the skin next to her nails. ‘But next time we’ll come here, then.’

The short time it takes Bilbo to understand that it’s a subtle invitation for a third date is unnerving, but the slow smile brightening her face by the end is worth the small anguish. ‘... Of course! I won’t accept anywhere else.’

After a quick drive to the shop Bilbo suggested, they have to go down, and then up two sets of stairs to reach the counter, which is surprisingly full for a Wednesday evening. Some men and hobbit clients are waiting on wicker benches furnishing the corners of the room, and two elves are standing, watching the food being prepared. There’s a wall of glass between the kitchen and the waiting area, and Thorin appreciates that even though the business seems to be run by men, the cash register and surrounding surfaces are friendly in size for dwarves and hobbits.

‘Here, let’s see what’s on the menu.’ Bilbo says, hooking her left arm around Thorin’s right, and leading them close to the smiling person behind the register. ‘Oh, I love their chicken. It’s simple, but very well-seasoned. Maybe I’ll get it tonight. What about you?’

Thorin looks around the kitchen corner, where an assistant is chopping zucchini, and the cook has their back turned, but seems to be tending to entire slabs of red meat, spinning on skewers. The smell is fantastic, and it’s noticeable now that she skipped her last meal to get ready to see Bilbo, since her stomach is growling.

‘I’m not sure. Everything looks good, really.’

Bilbo breathes out a laugh. ‘Alright, if you don’t have any food allergies, I’ll order my favorites from the menu, plus some rice, potatoes, and a vegetable stir fry for both of us. What do you say?’

‘That sounds perfect,’ Thorin says, and Bilbo quickly slinks forward to place their order at the register. From over the hobbit’s narrow shoulder, Thorin peeks inside her wallet once more, a realistic detail of her life that Thorin rarely has access to, and the illustration of a mystical-looking woman is still in there, wedged in front of a bill of ten. The total amount is thankfully even, so Thorin fishes the right amount of money from her own purse, and they share the cost of the food.

The till operator sends instructions to the kitchen staff while reaching over tall metal pans for the side dishes, pushing generous spoonfuls of them into aluminium trays, and setting them aside to wait among the other orders. The meats take a while longer to be cut and packed, but Thorin enjoys how Bilbo cheerfully props herself against the narrow table to watch the cooking process. She’s wearing a red coat with curly white wool on the lapels, and every time her head turns to follow the movement of the chef’s hands, the copper tresses of her hair get caught in the swirls of wool, then bounce back into place. Thorin’s eyes hungrily take the details of the hobbit’s face in: the fleeting wrinkles next to her lashes and mouth, and her tongue peeking between her thin lips to moisten them. She’s seen all of it before, but it’s as if every time they spend a while apart, Thorin’s brain forgets a few of Bilbo’s features, making it hard to picture her realistically. For a moment, her thoughts wander, imagining a time when they can take photos together, and keep them inside each other’s wallets.

‘What’s that picture you keep in your wallet?’ Thorin finds herself asking.

Bilbo frowns for a second, her face turning from the kitchen, but her eyes still glued to the food. ‘Oh! This?’ Her nimble fingers dig between the zippers of her little purse to find the paper. Looking closely at it, Thorin sees that it’s a dark-skinned, plump female figure, and she’s surrounded by artistic renditions of ivy and white flowers. It’s actually not a photograph, but a printed illustration. ‘It’s Yavanna. I don’t practice religion, but my mother told that she protects the children of nature. She was the one who gave me this, my mother. It’s just a charm.’

Her pointy ears are burning red, and Thorin takes a moment to understand why. Hobbit culture isn’t usually spoken about by other races, but there are many prejudices and misconceptions about their beliefs and customs. It’s not as violent as the reactions against dwarven culture, but Thorin recognizes the mildly flustered look in Bilbo’s face. It’s not easy to explain your customs to outsiders, especially if you don’t know if they might judge you for it.

‘I see. I’d never heard of that. My people don’t keep pictures of our god, but we have jewels with runes engraved in his honor.’ Thorin feels herself fiddling at the smooth pale skin around her finger, where her ring usually sits. Her own mother would have asked where it was, if she was still alive.

‘Really? I’ve heard of the lampstand dwarves keep in their homes, but nothing about jewelry.’ Bilbo turns her torso to face Thorin, looking less tense.

‘I’m surprised you’ve heard that much.’ Thorin laughs, and the hobbit responds with a rueful grin. ‘I’ll show you my ring tonight, if you’re curious. I forgot it at home.’ Her mother’s mouth would certainly be pursed in disapproval at Thorin showing her Durin ring to an outsider. At least the room they’re in is noisy enough to drown their conversation. The elves beside them certainly haven’t listened to her talking about her culture.

Blinking slowly, Bilbo seems to be distracted by something, but she nods eagerly. ‘Please do!’ Her head turns to look at something behind her, and then back to Thorin. ‘Next time you come to my house, I can show you a few figures my family kept.’

‘Figures? How do you mean?’ Thorin smiles, and imagines plastic action figures, but it sounds wrong and comical.

All of a sudden, Bilbo’s head turns right again. Worried, Thorin searches for something on the counter top that could be bothering her, and on the floor. There’s nothing taking Thorin’s concentration away while they’re conversing, and she puzzles at what Bilbo could be looking at.

As she opens her mouth to ask what’s the matter, one of the kitchen staff calls Bilbo’s name, and lifts two large white plastic bags with their order for them to see. Thorin is closest to the person, and quickly takes the warm parcel from their hands with a word of thanks.

While rearranging the straps of the bags on her left hand so she can access her car keys with her dominant one, Thorin hears Bilbo’s voice raising in the background. It takes her a good second to recognize it’s the hobbit speaking, since the timbre sounds slightly different, and Thorin can’t understand the meaning of the words coming out of her mouth. But it’s quite clear from the aggressive manner her finger is pointing at the two elves that it’s nothing pleasant.

The room turns quieter, the other customers also noticing the tense mood. Bilbo’s gesticulating and speaking quickly in what sounds like an elvish language, but the only elves in the room are right in front of her, so it’s probable that just like Thorin, no one else is understanding the issue.

‘Bilbo…?’ Thorin looks suspiciously at the tall blond figures, measuring them up. They seem speechless, eyes wide, and arms crossed in front of their bodies. She hadn’t seen anything before, but if they had harassed Bilbo in any way...

‘Let’s go home, Thorin.’ The hobbit hooks her arm around Thorin’s, and leads them in a rush towards the door. ‘Next time, think twice before spewing _crap_ out of your mouths in public, darlings. You’re not the only ones who speak elvish in this world.’ Bilbo says fiercely, before climbing down the stairs.

Thorin feels that her eyebrows might have vanished under her hair. She isn’t proud of it, but seeing Bilbo yell at elves makes her feel alive, and oddly hot in the face (and further south.) Despite what the most diplomatic of her family members taught her, Thorin still thinks elves don’t see all folk as equal.

It’s only when they’re inside the car that Bilbo lets go of Thorin’s arm, and huffs out an angry sigh. She wraps the seatbelt around her hips, and doesn’t seem to see that she’s being watched by an amused Thorin. Upon lifting her face and seeing the look on Thorin’s face, she snorts. ‘You don’t want to know.’

‘I do. What were they saying?’ Thorin has an inkling it was rude things about hobbits. She’s glad they’re already in the car, or she’d be tempted to go back there.

The corners of Bilbo’s mouth turn upwards, but it creates a frown. ‘They were saying bad things about you. Then, bad things about us both together.’ She rests the side of her head on her hand, propped up against the car door. ‘I bet they didn’t expect to be understood.’

‘Oh.’ Thorin raises her chin after placing the takeaway on the floor next to Bilbo’s legs, turns the engine on, and starts driving towards the supermarket near her apartment building.

‘I’m sorry. Maybe I should have left it alone, right? It wasn’t my bone to pick.’

Never having had friends from other races while growing up has Thorin wondering what the best response would be. With Dwalin, back in school, she had gotten into fights with elvish colleagues over racist comments. She remembers elbowing Dwalin and rolling her eyes in a darkened room, where a human professor was playing a videotape about racism and bullying, knowing that the elves weren’t listening, since they’d go back to mocking their few dwarvish classmates only hours later. It caused many arguments at their houses, how only the two of them would be sent to the school director’s office for making their bullies’ noses bleed. Trying to explain that the elven kids would instigate on purpose and be spared from punishment for being related to school administrators didn’t work, either. Therefore, they gradually learned to only laugh and walk away from the provocations. The fights became much less frequent, but the pain would always be in there, somewhere.

Something about Bilbo standing up for Thorin in this case, however, doesn’t feel patronizing like what her school teachers used to do. She knows hobbits suffer their share of social violence, and Bilbo’s ire is completely justified.

‘No, it’s fine.’ Turning her head quickly to check Bilbo’s expression of disbelief, Thorin adds, ‘No, really. I wouldn’t have known they were saying anything rotten. It was actually… _fun_ to hear you confront them, though.’

At that, Bilbo lets out a big sigh, and a breath of laughter follows. ‘That was unclassy!’ A look at Thorin’s eyebrows has her laughing harder. ‘But very satisfying.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter, but the next part is already underway! Since the date is going to be very long and eventful, I needed to chop it somewhere for size :) Thanks everyone for following the story until now! You guys keep me inspired! ♥


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, and especially in this chapter, a huge thank you to mcmanatea and mithrilbikini, who did a wonderful beta!

‘Cheers!’

Thorin blinks slowly while clinking their glasses together, the sight of Bilbo sipping wine in her living room still completely surprising to her. She’d given her a tour of her apartment after they set the food containers on the table, and the hobbit readily followed her around the rooms, curious to see the recording studio, and commenting on how tidy it all looked.

‘I’d always wondered how dwarves lived. How you lived,’ she comments after swallowing. For Thorin, they went a little overboard with how many bottles they bought, but Bilbo assured her it’d be fine.

After taking two large plates from the cupboards on the wall, Thorin asks, ‘So, did my apartment live up to your expectations?’ Just two gulps of the wine make her brain lag and her speech loose. Thus, she rushes to arrange their dinner before they get too drunk. Or rather, before she gets too drunk, since Bilbo doesn’t seem to be affected by alcohol at all.

‘Your house looks great! Although it’s very different from what I’m used to, of course. It reminds me of interior design magazines, you know? Very bright and minimalistic.’ Bilbo enthusiastically says while slicing the juicy roast and shoveling half of it onto her plate, right next to a colorful mound of spiced potatoes. ‘I love your studio, too. Looks very professional and powerful.’

The wink Bilbo gives makes Thorin’s heart flutter. ‘Thank you.’ Her eyes lock on Bilbo’s plate, unseeing: she wants to mention Balin, her mind linking the studio with his sponsorship, but she isn’t sure how Bilbo might react. Ever since Thorin told Frerin about all of this, she’s been wondering if Bilbo had served Balin. She doesn’t really know if she wants it confirmed, but her mouth acts before there’s a chance to censor herself. ‘It’s thanks to my cousin Balin that I’ve been able to build it. I hadn’t the funds, right after I stopped doing factory work. He, uh… he was also the one who recommended the Parlor to me.’

Waiting for any sign of recognition, Thorin stands in silence for a few awkward moments. ‘Oh! That’s wonderful. He’s a very generous person, then. I was expecting you to continue speaking, sorry.’ Bilbo pours herself a second glass of wine, smiling. ‘Do you want me to make you a plate?’

‘No, no. I was waiting for you to react to me mentioning Balin’s name, actually. Do you not know him? I thought he might have frequented there.’ Thorin wouldn’t be able to eat as much as Bilbo would certainly serve her, so she starts distractedly serving herself with the rest of the roast, and a few pieces of chicken.

‘If he did come by the Parlor, then he wasn’t a client of mine. He could have come by, but only for the first massage service with me. So I honestly don’t remember.’ Bilbo steps back, and looks around herself, spotting the white stools under the marble counter. ‘Can I sit here? Or are we going to eat somewhere else?’

‘Here’s fine, go ahead.’

Thorin’s getting herself a spoonful of sautéed vegetables (for the sake of appearances, since she wouldn’t eat vegetables otherwise) when Bilbo lifts the plastic bag containing her gifts from beneath the table. ‘Should I put this somewhere? It was on top of my seat…’

Lord. She’d hidden it out of sight while putting the food away, and forgotten about it. Thorin can feel her hands become clammy and cold all of a sudden. Perhaps this could be a fortunate mistake, and she can simply give Bilbo the gifts. Her brain tells her it’s time to get rid of this burden, just let it out, and deal with it before she bursts with nerves. But her heart replies that it’s not the right mood for a romantic confession. After the initial abrupt sinking in her stomach, Thorin closes her fist, and decides that she’s too nervous to declare her feelings now. It’s too soon. Perhaps after they’ve eaten, she’ll feel more full - of courage, and fuel.

‘A-actually, that’s mine. I’ll put it in the living room.’ Thorin retrieves the bag and tries to carry it as inconspicuously as possible to the coffee table next to her sofa-bed, although she wants to get an arm’s length of distance from it, as if it’s a hazardous material. It might be, she thinks sardonically.

Bilbo seems to be focused on starting dinner, so Thorin tries to relax, and get her head back in the date. ‘Let’s dig in?’

‘Hm-hmm!’ There isn’t enough time for Thorin to finish sitting down before Bilbo’s fork flies from the plate to her mouth. She thought the pressure of hiding her intentions would have diminished her appetite, but the way Bilbo’s humming in between bites has Thorin’s mouth watering once more. The food smells fantastic. Juices glisten under the kitchen light, and the meat yields easily under her fork.

Bilbo’s choice for the restaurant doesn’t disappoint: everything is delightfully spiced and roasted to perfection. Luckily, Thorin’s favorite wines go very well with the savoriness of the meal, and they’re opening the third bottle by the time they finish their first serving.

‘This is fantastic. I don’t know if we could’ve gotten food as great as this at the place I was originally going for,’ Thorin says, words tripping out of her mouth while her mind works to catch up. She’s definitely had enough alcohol.

‘We’ll have to compare them, then!’ Bilbo laughs, leaning against the metallic back of the stool. ‘I like this setting, nonetheless. It’s much more comfortable to drink and eat at home, where there’s less noise and no prying eyes.’

The way Bilbo’s thighs cross on top of each other, her short brown skirt riding up with the movement, has Thorin struggling to tear her eyes off her lap. ‘I prefer eating at home, too. My family only used to go to dwarven restaurants, when they chose to eat out, which was rare. So I feel more comfortable eating in. But I do enjoy going out for meals, too. The place we went on our first date was great.’ She’s talking way too much, but her mind is too fuzzy to stop her lips. ‘I’m going to get a glass of water. Do you want one, too?’

‘Yes, please!’ Bilbo answers, her cheek bulging with a mouthful of food. ‘I really like that place, too. I sometimes go out for lunch with Bluebell while we’re in the Parlor, so I know a few restaurants around there.’

Thorin focuses as best she can on not wobbling to the fridge. She takes out a tall jug of cold water, and places it on the table along with two simple bar-style glasses from her cupboard. She shakes her head after sitting down on the stool closest to the door.

‘Indeed, it’s time to switch completely to water, dear.’ Bilbo takes Thorin’s empty wine glass and places it on the edge of the table.

‘My thoughts exactly.’

Looking up at the hobbit, Thorin can’t hold her laughter in. It’s absurd that she’s hosting the woman she’s in love with, but she’s immediately too drunk to behave maturely. Bilbo’s propping her chin on her hand, smiling at Thorin’s mirth. When had she finished her second plate of food?

‘You’re blushing! That’s adorable,’ Bilbo says, lifting her other arm to prop her head up with.

‘Am I?’ Her hands come up to cover her grinning lips, absentmindedly scratching her stubble, and noticing how warm the skin underneath is.

‘Yeah. Maybe we could eat dessert, and sit quietly for a while. That’ll help.’

Thorin tries to physically hold her laughter in, her right palm clutching at her jaw, while puffs of air escape from the corners.

‘What are you laughing at, now?’ Bilbo’s smile is lopsided while she tidies the table.

‘I… you really _just_ want to eat the dessert, don’t you?’ Thorin giggles, but she’s torn between berating herself for mocking Bilbo, and finding it all adorably funny.

Bilbo feigns horror, her fingers splayed on top of the maroon sweater covering her chest. ‘Me? Oh, no, you must be mistaken. I’m just pitying your drunken state, you know.’

‘Right, right…’

They laugh together while Bilbo cheerfully places the dinner leftovers in the fridge. Thorin admires how Bilbo seems to know how to get around her kitchen without any sort of coaching, as if they’ve done this together before. Her heart clenches painfully at how her apartment looks and feels happier, more like a home, now that Bilbo’s in it.

A plate with a slice of strawberry and custard tart materializes in front of Thorin after a blink. ‘Thank you.’

‘Can we use these tiny forks? I found them in that drawer, and they’re so very cute.’ Bilbo points to the cutlery drawer beneath the sink.

‘Sure. I don’t remember the last time I used them,’ Thorin says, turning hers to see the manufacturer. They were gifted by Dís, along with most of her kitchen tools. She suspects they were intended as a message for Thorin to start cooking more often.

Bilbo hums through her lips, the fork already between them, covered with custard and crumbs. They picked the tart up at the supermarket while heading to the wine corridor. It was an impulse purchase, according to Bilbo.

‘This is pretty good! I thought it’d taste awful, judging by the price.’

Smiling, Thorin scoops a corner of the creamy, glistening tart for a taste. ‘That’s true.’ She always buys pastries from the supermarket, without thinking twice about the quality. Dís never makes pies like this, so Thorin has no way of knowing if this one is better or worse than any other.

The sound of Bilbo scraping the plate, chasing bits of chopped peanuts and cream with her fork, wakes Thorin from her tangential thoughts. She eats the rest of her slice as quickly as possible, to match her guest.

‘Do you want to sit on the couch? You can take the wine with you,’ she mumbles.

‘I do! I told you that sitting quietly for a while would be a good idea. Let’s go.’ Bilbo’s dexterously piling the dirty plates on top of each other and setting them aside for washing, while Thorin shakily gets up from her seat. She really, really should have waited to drink the wine until after eating something.

Her thick waist is enveloped by two small and warm hands while they head to the living room, and Thorin appreciates the guidance. Once she sits down, the cushions a lovely welcome for her back, Bilbo shuffles to the kitchen to bring her wine, and the bottle itself.

Thorin drags the low table from her left so Bilbo can place her drink, and the bag with gifts catches her attention once more. She’s feeling much less on edge, so perhaps it’s time to deliver them.

‘Bilbo, listen, I...’ she starts, gathering all of her energy to will the fuzziness from behind her eyes. Thorin can feel her palms sweating, and her heartbeat pounding against her ribs, making it even harder to concentrate on forming a coherent phrase.

Looking to her right, Thorin sees Bilbo has already perched on the sofa, knees pulled up to her chest, as if she’s waiting for someone to turn on her favorite film on the television. But instead, she’s watching Thorin. Her gaze is soft as she waits patiently for Thorin to continue speaking, yet she’s completely focused. It’s always like this when they're together: Thorin feels relevant, important. With Bilbo, her own bad manners and abruptness don’t get in the way of their conversations. This is what she loves most about their relationship; how much Bilbo lets Thorin be herself, and feel comfortable while doing so. It’s a stark contrast from her previous attempts at romance, where she’d only felt welcomed while pretending to be more feminine, less dwarvish, less genuine.

She has to blink the moisture away from her eyes, but the words finally come. ‘Here. This is for you.’

‘What? For me?’ Bilbo receives the black bag with both hands, her back straightening up. ‘May I open it?’

‘Yeah, I… I mean, I wanted to give you something so you knew how much you meant to me.’ Thorin mumbles, staring at a corner of the room. ‘I’m not really good with words, but I need to show you how I feel, so…’

Risking a glimpse of Bilbo’s face while she bends forward to place the wine on the table, Thorin sees her smiling, mouth open, reading the names of the tracks on the custom CD she recorded. ‘Oh, darling… did you really play all of these for me?’ Her eyes are shining in the low ambient light. ‘You remembered all of my favorites… this is marvelous… Thank you.’

Thorin smiles, lips tight. She can’t trust her voice not to waver right now.

The plastic crinkles once more, while Bilbo fishes out the thick blank book from inside of the bag. She grins while her hands roam the textured red cover, but soon opens it to the first page, where an envelope is waiting for her. The room is silent while Bilbo skims across the letter inside, and the lower her gaze gets, the redder her eyelids look.

‘Is… is this real?’ Bilbo asks, her brows furrowed.

Hoping she won’t be offended by the gift, Thorin nods. ‘Yeah, uh… My best friend’s girlfriend is an illustrator, and she works for an alternative editor. I’ve already paid for any pictures you want to add in your book. But I thought once it’s finished, you’d like to publish it somewhere, and my friend’s place is reliable.’ Not receiving an answer from Bilbo makes Thorin’s breath quicken. Maybe she considers this an act of pity. ‘That is, if you want to. You don’t need to do it if you don’t like it, it’s fine. I can return the notebook, too. It was just...’

The next thing she feels is the hard corner of the cover poking her in the stomach while Bilbo holds it and hugs her from the side. Thorin’s thumping heartbeat against her ears makes it difficult to concentrate, but there’s a mop of curls tickling her neck, a soft chest pressed against her arm, and the sweet and salty smell of Bilbo permeating from the maroon fabric resting under Thorin’s jaw.

‘This is much more than any hobbit deserves. Thank you so much.’ Her small, muffled voice reverberates poorly against the thick wool jacket Thorin’s wearing, but it’s all she needs to hear.

Thorin runs her hand against Bilbo’s arm, bringing it even closer to herself, prolonging the slanted hug. Maybe she understands what Thorin means, with the gifts. She doesn’t want to ruin the mood by talking, and perhaps it’ll take more than just this to get the true message through, but it’s alright. Thorin can be patient.

The hug lasts for an eternity, and no time at all. It’s the closest Thorin’s ever been to Bilbo’s heart, and she doesn’t want to leave. It’s almost impossible to let go, but Bilbo nuzzles her shoulder, the curls tangling on Thorin’s hair, and she releases her grip slowly, sniffling wetly.

‘Sorry, uh...Gosh. Can I use the bathroom?’

‘Oh. Yeah, um. Head right from here, it’s the first door to the left. You can close the door to the living room, too, if you’d like.’ Thorin still feels a bit light-headed while pointing the way, but this time she knows it’s not only from the alcohol.

‘Okay, thanks. I’ll be right back.’ Bilbo walks off the couch cushions, and Thorin wonders when she had removed her shoes. Instead of going directly to the bathroom, Bilbo stops to gingerly store her gifts inside her purse, which is hanging from the hooks next to the kitchen. On her way back, she gives Thorin a small smile, her nose red.

It’s a relief to have expressed herself. Thorin can finally breathe deeply, the bones in her back popping pleasantly with a stretch. She doesn’t need a response from Bilbo right away. It might be too big of an emotional toll for both of them, as much as Thorin would like to start a new relationship immediately. Even so, perhaps the night will be more enjoyable if they lighten up and talk about other things, or watch something together.

The thought of spending a cozy evening with Bilbo spurs Thorin into action, and she gets up before her brain can spiral further into self-doubt. The water jug in the kitchen is now covered with drops of condensation, but it’s still cold, so Thorin brings it and two glasses for them to drink from. A quick search in her small pantry reveals a bag of salted seeds and nuts that they can munch on while watching television. There’s a closed box of tissues in her purse somewhere; maybe Bilbo would like to use it. She’s picking a recently-laundered blanket from a cabinet under the television when she hears the sound of the bathroom pipes working through the closed door. There’s just enough time for Thorin to shakily and hastily light the scented candles Dís had gifted her (probably a few years ago) with one hand, before Bilbo walks back into the room.

‘Sorry I took long,’ Bilbo says through a wad of toilet paper that she’s dabbing against her nose. Upon seeing the snacks and blanket on Thorin’s arms, she grins and slides closer. ‘What’s this? Are we going to watch something?’

‘I thought it’d be nice.’

Bilbo pulls Thorin by the hand to sit on the sofa once more, and the room only slightly spins this time. Her dwarven body is already working through the effects of the alcohol. ‘It’d be great!’ She takes the grey blanket and spreads it over their legs, and steals the remote control from Thorin. ‘Here, let’s see…’

A few minutes later, Thorin agrees on re-watching one of the films from her list. There are many more to choose from, but if it’s an older movie she already knows by heart, then at least they can talk over it, and not necessarily sit in silence paying attention to it.

Bilbo doesn’t waste time draining the last two gulps of wine from her glass, and opening the pack of snacks. It’s a perfect way to spend the night, in Thorin’s opinion. Trouble is, now that they’ve dimmed the lights, she can feel herself sinking into a sleepy state, her limbs all very warm and comfortable underneath the blanket, and after the rush of adrenaline from earlier, her brain seems to want to shut down.

Just a few scenes after the much-too-familiar movie’s begun, Thorin’s struggling to keep her eyes open. Every time she blinks, it’s like she’s nodded off to sleep, and it’s almost dizzying to wake back up.

‘When I was little, I thought they were both men! My mother didn’t correct me for many years,’ Bilbo’s voice comes from far away, but her folded legs shift to the side, accidentally jerking Thorin out of her drowsy haze. ‘Oh, sorry! Are you sleepy, dear?’

Bashfully scratching her eye, Thorin nods. ‘It must be the wine. I apologize.’

‘Well, maybe you should take take a nap. If you’re going to drive later, it’s best to wait a few hours anyway.’ Bilbo taps Thorin’s thigh beneath the blanket.

‘Mahal, I’d forgotten about that. I suppose I should sleep a little, then,’ Thorin groans.

Scooting to the right corner of the couch, and straightening her legs in Thorin’s direction, Bilbo pulls her closer. Thorin doesn’t understand the movement, since she’s readying herself to get up from the sofa. ‘You can lie down here next to me!’ She fluffs one of the beige pillows behind her head, and opens her arm for Thorin to lean against.

‘Here? Are you sure?’ Too long has she wished for cuddling with a partner, and even though Thorin has shared intimate moments with Bilbo, taking a nap together at her own house almost feels too good to be true.

Bilbo’s left hand pats the cushion. ‘Yeah. Come on, sleepy.’

Thorin snorts, but acquiesces. She lies on her back, the width of the couch more than adequate for them both to lie on their backs together, even though Bilbo is on her side to watch the film. They pull the blanket over themselves, and after squirming a little, Bilbo’s arm rests on Thorin’s.

While cuddling with family, Thorin had always been automatically chosen to be the big spoon. But again, with Bilbo, things happen differently. The rush of pleasure from being embraced swirls inside her belly, and Thorin sighs.

Although she’s suddenly very aware of their proximity, Thorin can feel her lids closing, the alcohol helping to weigh them down. In the few moments before drifting away, Thorin feels whole: the warmth radiating from the hobbit’s body, her familiar scent, and simply the reality of being next to Bilbo brings her absolute contentment.

 

* * *

 

The pillow inclining and tugging itself away makes Thorin grunt. Her bottom feels numb, so she turns to the side, where the warmest part of the bed seems to be.

‘Oh, excuse me. My arm…’ Bilbo’s voice comes from just a few centimeters away, making Thorin’s eyes snap open. ‘It’s all pins and needles, let me...’

The dead limb having dislodged from under her neck, Thorin resituates herself, noticing that Bilbo’s blinking at her, apparently amused. From what she can hear, the film’s almost over, the dramatic ending song playing over the actors’ voices. Through the dim blue light of the television, Thorin can see that Bilbo’s opened her own maroon cardigan, her hands coming to rest under her crossed arms, as if she’s hugging her chest.

They’re very close together, and Thorin can feel that her calves have entwined with Bilbo’s, but neither of them are making an effort to move away.

‘You only slept for an hour, I think. Don’t you want to sleep a little more?’ Bilbo licks her lips, and Thorin’s gaze follows downward.

It’s tempting to just reach forward and steal a kiss. Everything feels warm and intimate. But it doesn’t really seem to be the right mood for it, yet.

Thorin stretches her shoulders and yawns, covering her mouth. ‘I don’t know. I think I’m fine for now.’ Her hand hovers awkwardly on the way down, but Bilbo takes it instead.

For how much Bilbo’s body exudes heat, her fingers are chilly, and Thorin unconsciously brings her other palm up to hold Bilbo’s small hand between both of hers. It makes the hobbit smile slowly, dimples forming on her cheeks, and Thorin feels herself smiling back. It’s something she’s used to doing with her nephews, since they’re always leaving their gloves behind, or losing them in winter. The bubble of elation growing in her chest is quite different from the familial affection she feels with them, however. Bilbo’s other hand snakes up, caressing the back of Thorin’s hand, making her heart flutter.

Looking up, Thorin sees Bilbo still grinning, her cheeks rosy, and her hair tousled from the pillow. On a whim, Thorin’s right hand reaches up to pinch a silky strand away, behind Bilbo’s pointy ear. A shiver visibly travels down her body from the second Thorin’s fingers touch the rigid underside of cartilage, and she can feel Bilbo’s knees clamp like a vice grip against hers from tension.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ Thorin asks, but doesn’t take the hand away.

‘No.’ Bilbo’s gaze is sultry, her lids heavy. Thorin had forgotten that her ears were this sensitive, but Bilbo doesn’t seem to regret the contact.

Now that they don’t have the urgency of initiating a session at the parlor, Thorin can leisurely pet Bilbo, and show more obvious affection. Her fingers roam amid the ginger coils, scratching twice at the scalp before lifting away and starting at a different spot, and at every cycle, Bilbo’s eyes blink slowly. Brushing the hair at the nape of her neck has Bilbo turning her head to the side to allow Thorin’s digits to splay, making her lids flutter.

Her blunt nails graze towards Bilbo’s ear again, this time encircling the entire length of it with her index and thumb, and hands come to grip at Thorin’s clothes. Playing with the pointed tip of the ear is oddly satisfying: it feels less delicate than when she’d touched it with her mouth, bouncing back to place when she softly presses it down, and the skin around it feels much like a dwarf’s ear. A thumb traveling down the whorls of warm, bright pink skin has Bilbo letting out her breath in gasps, her fists even tighter around the fabric of Thorin’s sweater.

‘Oh, Thorin,’ she murmurs, opening her eyes lazily. Her enormous pupils barely contract at the low light of the television, which is now playing the credits of the film, from what Thorin can distantly hear.

Her right hand continues traveling around, this time dragging a curl away from Bilbo’s freckled cheek, and lightly, adoringly, following the contour of her face downwards. For the first time, Thorin’s notices peach fuzz on a woman’s skin and doesn’t feel envy. It’s rewarding to make her sigh, the softness of her skin a part of the moment, just another lovely side of Bilbo that Thorin wants to map with her own limbs.

Looking up to see if Bilbo’s eyes tell her to stop, Thorin allows her knuckles to play around the roundness of her chin, the tips of her fingers ghosting over her neck. Bilbo’s eyes are closed, and she looks absolutely relaxed, her hands still barely hanging from Thorin’s shirt, much like a cat that’s getting her stomach rubbed.

It’s almost a shame to disrupt the mood, but Thorin doesn’t want to trespass the limits of respect, especially now that they’re both so comfortable. ‘Can I…?’

Bilbo barely opens one eye to see the hand hovering over her breast, and she’s nodding as eagerly as the laziness allows, nuzzling her head against the cushion once more, closer to Thorin.

With the calm pace of their date, Thorin’s fingers don’t tremble while pinching the tiny buttons of Bilbo’s shirt open. She can feel warmth escaping from between the lapels of fabric, even more when she reaches the waist of the velvet skirt around Bilbo’s middle. When Thorin drifts her fist up to expose a sliver of breast, she smiles at the slight jump Bilbo’s body makes: although the hobbit doesn’t seem to be ticklish, her belly is still apparently a sensitive spot.

It’s the first time she’s seen Bilbo wearing a less ornate bra: it’s of a pinkish color close to the tone of her skin, and it looks soft, with no structure to hold the cups. Certainly not the same stretchy material as Thorin’s sport bras, and much more delicate-looking, but still very plain.

Bilbo stretches her arms up, a silent yawn taking her body in a trembling arc. On the way down, she lets her torso tilt to the left, fully resting her back on the sofa. Thorin’s limbs cling to the warm contact of skin, so she props herself up on her left elbow for easier access to Bilbo, who’s now watching with an easy, satisfied tilt to her lips, using her two crossed arms as a headrest.

Perhaps from the slight chill of the room, or the shiver of the stretch, when Thorin finally pushes the right side of the shirt away from Bilbo’s body, she notices that underneath the bra, Bilbo’s nipple is visibly hard. Without consciously moving, Thorin sees her own digits cupping the breast, her thumb gingerly strumming the clothed nub. Bilbo’s leg tenses between both of Thorin’s, and she sighs. Since it’s so quiet between them, Thorin can feel a heartbeat thumping impossibly fast under her palm, getting quicker and quicker once she pinches Bilbo’s nipple between her index finger and thumb.

‘Oh, gosh…’ Bilbo’s weak whisper disrupts the silence.

Before Thorin has a chance to doubt her own assertiveness, having been playing with Bilbo’s body at her own will, a small hand comes to rest atop her head, lightly scratching, decidedly distracted, but definitely pulling her closer. A second tweak from Thorin’s hand brings Bilbo’s entire torso upward, wantonly offering herself for more of the same treatment.

As if not having command over her limbs, she snakes four digits under the colorful elastic band of Bilbo’s bra, and easily pushes it up, above her ample breasts. It’s a sight to behold, Thorin stupidly thinks to herself. To have Bilbo allowing her to explore as much as she wants, clothes rucked, red-cheeked, and looking up at her with no impatience, no pressure. Just desire and curiosity.

The stuttered groan that accompanies the long travel of Thorin’s hand along the gap on the left-hand side of Bilbo’s shirt is music to her ears. Her palm presses the squishy flesh of Bilbo’s middle, the curves and divots of her side, and carries itself up, over her now naked breasts. First the one she’d already played with, which is more sensitive by consequence, and then to the one closest to Thorin’s body. Her fingers can’t be controlled: they scoop the entire globe of it, dragging it to the center, grabbing at it hungrily, running knuckles on the slowly-stiffening nipple. By the way that Bilbo’s left leg restlessly closes and opens, nudging at Thorin’s knee, and her chest rises and falls, breath coming in fast puffs, it seems that these ministrations are very welcome.

At the contact of Thorin’s nose against Bilbo’s chest, a sort of pressure loosens, and she finally realizes that the hand on her hair was actually pushing her forward for this exact task, so she laughs to herself. Thorin hadn’t even felt how strongly Bilbo’s arm was insistently tugging for her to use her mouth. The gusts of mirth tickle tender skin, making Bilbo even more passionate, her hand suddenly gripping a fistful of hair on Thorin’s nape.

Exhaling dreamily, letting her eyelids flutter shut from the absurd, surprising pleasure it brings her, Thorin hopes that Bilbo will keep holding her hair as tightly as possible while she nuzzles her lips against the silky breast. It seems that the more Thorin teases at using her tongue, the more forceful Bilbo’s fingers grip, and it’s so exciting, she can already feel a bloom of warm wetness between her legs, near where the hobbit’s thigh is resting.

Thorin plans to stall, to make Bilbo feel so frustrated that she’ll use both hands to pull her hair, but as soon as she hears the gasp and hiss echo against the living room walls while circling the tip of her tongue around the hard nub, it’s too late. She just wants to hear more of Bilbo’s pleasure, to make her come, and then later, maybe, she’ll ask for more hair-pulling. If she remembers.

The hand that travels to brush against Bilbo’s left breast gets snatched and pushed down, pressed against the triangle of her crotch, warm even while covered by the velvet of her skirt.

‘Thorin, please… here. Please.’

Lifting her head up, Thorin feels yet another rush of adrenaline at the sight of Bilbo’s flushed face contorted with anticipation. Her hand seems enormous, covered by Bilbo’s tiny, pale one. And it’s still a novel sensation to touch such a familiar part of someone’s body, but have it not be the same shape as hers. Bilbo’s mound isn’t as meaty as her own, but even through layers of clothing, Thorin can feel the bump of her labia with her fingers.

It’s a pity that the unyielding fist has finally relented its hold on Thorin’s hair, but now watching her own wrist disappear under the skirt takes up her entire focus. Almost mindlessly, her skin seeks the warmest spot between the semi-closed thighs, her fingers feeling almost cold in comparison to the furnace of Bilbo’s hips.

The wet patch in Bilbo’s panties confuses Thorin for a second, making her think there isn’t anything separating her hand from the skin underneath. But soon, she rearranges her torso to inspect further, and her index finger finds the top edge of the underwear, bringing it unceremoniously down. Bilbo seems to be enjoying how Thorin isn’t waiting for instructions to disrobe her this time; she even lifts the hem of her skirt up, for them to watch Thorin’s hand work.

Being naked in someone’s living room doesn’t seem to faze Bilbo at all; in fact, it seems to excite her. Her thighs open, and she moans although nothing is really happening. Thorin’s hand is simply resting to the side while waiting.

Lowering her jaw once more to kiss at the waiting skin of Bilbo’s breasts, Thorin blindly seeks the center of Bilbo’s opening, her fingers fumbling with the matted curls surrounding her sex.

‘God. I should have trimmed it, shouldn’t I? I completely forgot!’ Bilbo huffs out an anxious laugh that makes Thorin pause. ‘I’ve been feeling so much at ease while being with you, that I’ve just let it grow long! I can’t believe it.’

Thorin never thought such a statement would have brought her joy. As it is, she feels herself grinning widely at Bilbo, her chest warming with affection. She makes Bilbo feel at ease. There’s nothing else she wants more in the world.

‘It’s alright, I don’t mind.’ Thorin says, but it looks as though Bilbo is still feeling embarrassed. ‘You know, every sex organ has hair growing around it, it’s just natural.’

Bilbo’s eyes squint with amusement. She pulls breath in, opens her mouth, but stops before words come out. At Thorin’s tilt of the head, Bilbo smiles, and says, ‘Is that why dwarves have beards?’

The fact that Bilbo knows about such a crude dwarven idiom makes Thorin’s face flush. ‘How did you know the rest of that saying?’ She remembers hearing it from Dwalin’s parents, and getting smacked in the head for repeating it in front of her mother, while she was growing up.

‘Is it a saying? I didn’t know!’ Bilbo laughs, her right hand brushing Thorin’s thick hair back from her face. ‘We hobbits have one, too. But it’s terrible.’

‘I want to hear it.’ At Bilbo’s head shaking ‘no,’ Thorin lowers her nose to rub against her naked chest, and coax her to speak. Instead, she gets even more giggles out of her. ‘Please?’

‘Alright, fine.’ She sniffs, and looks up, seemingly trying to remember the words. ‘Wherever there’s a hole there is a lace.’

Snorting, Thorin shakes her own head. ‘That’s pretty adorable, though. Not as graphic, and it can be applied to many other anatomical bits, too.’

Bilbo cackles at the way Thorin’s forehead frowns with implication. _‘Awful.’_

Still smiling, Thorin returns to the task before her, lapping at a softening nipple, and reveling at the surprised giggle-gasp she gets in response. It seems that the mood isn’t completely ruined, their laughter serving to diminish Bilbo’s sensitivity a little, so that Thorin’s right hand fingers can roam and actually find Bilbo’s skin underneath the wiry, damp hair.

From the corner of her eye, Thorin sees Bilbo’s arm working to push her panties down, past her knees, to allow her thighs to open even more.

All that she can hear are satisfied sighs and hums while her hands work around the wet flesh of Bilbo’s labia. However, once Thorin’s thumb and index finger slide on either side of the swollen ridge of her clit, Bilbo fists at the hair on her head again. This time, it’s on Thorin’s crown; it stings a little, and it makes her gasp with pleasure around her mouthful of breast.

Bilbo doesn’t have time to pay attention to her reactions, since Thorin’s pulling at her skin, making her clit dance between her fingers, or escape and slip to the opposite side when pressing down on it.

‘Ah… _ah, yes…’_

It seems that Bilbo’s automatic reaction to pleasure is to pet Thorin’s hair, and when she’s tense with expectation or frustration, her fingers close and pull at it. It’s entirely agreeable, and it only makes Thorin want to provoke her more.

At Thorin’s teeth nipping lightly on Bilbo’s breast, there’s a loud whine, and the hand that isn’t wonderfully abusing her scalp comes up to pinch the other nipple. The sight of it makes Thorin groan. It’s beautiful to watch Bilbo bringing pleasure to herself, and the thought of causing a chain reaction of excitement is extremely hot.

All of it just makes Thorin want to see Bilbo reach her peak, and so she rearranges her wrist to a more familiar position, close to what she’d use on herself, to drag the tips of her middle fingers from side to side. Bilbo’s breathy ‘Ah!’s fill Thorin’s ears, since her head is still perpendicular to Bilbo, her tongue flicking distractedly at a nipple, while the other is pulled and caressed by Bilbo’s own fingers. Distantly, she wonders (and worries) if her motions aren’t too heavy on the hobbit’s sensitive skin. But the way she’s eagerly lifting her bottom up to meet Thorin’s fingers quickly clears any shadow of doubt.

Way before it usually happens when she’s doing it to herself, Bilbo’s voice raises, her gasps become whines, and her hips stutter back and forth. Thorin recognizes the signs of a climax. Her head is hugged in a desperate hold, Bilbo’s soft chest heaving and jumping beneath Thorin’s lips while she cries out in bliss. A shaky hand flies down to hold Thorin’s in place once she’s totally off the edge, pressing firmly while her body flutters against it, a lewd rhythm, grinding and milking herself to exhaustion.

 _‘My,_ Thorin…’ Bilbo babbles once it’s over, sounding impressed.

Perhaps Thorin is being selfish when she refuses to stop playing with Bilbo, who’s so very boneless, twitching slightly with the remains of her orgasm. But the sight of her hand, so wide and large, cupping and supporting BIlbo’s groin, is making her want to seek more from this encounter. Her sopping wet fingers delicately meander down, and one of them effortlessly worms itself inside Bilbo’s opening.

Looking guiltily up to see if it’s an unwelcome touch, Thorin’s heart hammers even faster at the naughty expression on Bilbo’s face. She’s biting her lower lip, and staring straight into Thorin’s eyes, as if daring her to continue.

She maintains eye contact, relieved that Bilbo is fully conscious and glad to continue, and her finger slowly slides deeper inside. Out of curiosity, Thorin pulls it out, and then in again, a few times, until Bilbo’s groaning, and tilting her hips up to make the motion easier. Remembering their last session, she halts her arm and hooks the tip of her finger up, seeking the rough spot on one of Bilbo’s walls, then firmly circles it.

Bilbo seems to be hungry for anything Thorin has to offer, her right arm letting go of the long, black hair, and clumsily dragging down to knead her own chest, now with both hands working in tandem.

Thankful that she’d recently cut her nails short, Thorin silently propositions adding a second finger, middle and ring fingers resting at the entrance, waiting for Bilbo’s answer.

‘Yes. Yes, Thorin, _please.’_ Her knee comes up, foot resting on the back of the sofa, panties hanging from her fuzzy ankle. The thought of Bilbo opening herself up more and more is making Thorin’s ears ring with primal desire.

Cautiously, one finger is inserted, and then the other, just their tips, just for Thorin to check if it’s at all possible. It’s very snug, and she’s dreadfully nervous that Bilbo might be in pain.

‘Keep going, keep going…’ Bilbo pants, her face quickly turning pink.

At least now that Bilbo’s skillfully handling her own breasts, Thorin can keep her head lifted, and watch for any discomfort while her fingers dive in. Slowly, and eased by the generous natural lubrication, she’s able to spin them around, and let them enter. After the second knuckle, it becomes much easier to slide them in, and Bilbo groans loudly when Thorin bottoms out. Every sound coming from her lips makes Thorin’s blood pump, her hand moving of its own accord, the palm heavily rubbing against Bilbo’s bulged clit, her hip jutting in reaction, making the sofa creak with the sudden movement.

Thorin’s arm goes along with whatever Bilbo dictates with her hips, but she’s fascinated at the strings of wetness that appear when she peels her palm away while pulling her fingers out. It’s carnal, animalistic, but Thorin’s reeling at the sight of it, so she starts pumping her fingers in and out, finding new things that make her own clit jump. The smacking sounds; the way Bilbo’s labia open and close around the thick digits; how at first it was an effort to push them inside, but now it’s physically harder to pull them out than to let Bilbo’s body suck it inside.

After mindlessly watching her hand work, Thorin turns her attention to Bilbo once more, noticing how the flush has spread to her chest now, almost making her lovely freckles disappear with the lack of contrast. It’s not long before she realizes that Bilbo gasps and pants when Thorin curls her fingers, but she wonders if it’s possible to make her come again from her clit. Thorin can’t even feel her left hand, since it’s being used to prop herself up, so she inclines her fist in a way that has the heel of her palm leaning heavily against the wet nub, but her fingers are still free to hook and dig inside of her opening.

‘Yes, oh god, Thorin… Yes, yes, yes…’ Bilbo pleads between hisses and pants. ‘Your fingers are so thick, it’s…ah...’

No matter how cramped her muscles might become later, Thorin devotes herself to pistoning her arm up and down: it’s the way she finds that has her rubbing her entire hand against Bilbo, and it pays off. The neighbors would be complaining had she left the windows open, but for now, she’s amazed at the constant moans and pleas from Bilbo, the raunchy wet slurps bouncing off the walls of the apartment. She’s using a considerable amount of strength to stimulate Bilbo, but by the way her head tilts up, away from view, the veins on her neck pulsating with the strain of pleasure, her voice a breaking stream of moans, proves that she’s nearly at her limit.

This time, Thorin’s free to continue pumping her hand however she wants, while Bilbo trembles and groans at start of her orgasm. Once Bilbo’s form is seizing with the climax, Thorin falters at the abrupt lack of warmth on her fingers. She watches as Bilbo’s chest curves out, her head pressing back on the side of the couch, accidentally arching away from Thorin’s touch. Thorin remembers the first time they played with toys, that Bilbo kept inserting hers back in, even while climaxing. And so, Thorin thinks to follow the jumps of Bilbo’s hips with her hand, carefully going back in place, but at a calmer pace. From the loud chain of ‘Ah’s that flood her ears, it seems to be helping draw out the sensation.

Leaving her two fingers inside the hobbit’s body brings a satisfaction Thorin isn’t prepared to feel. She can clearly feel the contractions wracking through Bilbo, clenching at every second. It has Thorin wishing they’d try it on her, someday.

The picture Bilbo paints is remarkable, her face hidden upwards, cleavage flushed, clothes open, hands limp to the sides. Thorin really doesn’t want it to disappear, wishing this dizzy, elated, inebriated moment won’t ever end.

‘Can I keep going?’

Something in Thorin’s question causes Bilbo to start giggling, both of her arms coming up to rub against her face, before she lifts it to look up. Her eyes are glistening, hair in complete disarray. It makes Thorin’s stomach clench, how happy she seems.

‘I mean… yeah. Of course.’ A lazy, playful smile stays on her round face. ‘How could I say no to that? But don’t you want me to do it to you, too?’

‘I’m fine. I like watching you.’ Thorin says, not minding the blush that threatens to rise to her ears.

The smile this brings Bilbo only helps to fuel the mood. All Thorin’s hands and body want to do is please this hobbit goddess lying in her sofa-bed. Her head lowers to nuzzle the shirt-framed breasts, not caring if her stubble will be noticeably rough against the smooth skin, and she traces a path up with her lips, to kiss the few freckles she’s able to see in the low light. Bilbo’s hand returns to its rightful place (in Thorin’s opinion) over her head, petting her hair, and combing it behind her round ear.

Fingers that were kept still, nearly cramping from waiting inside Bilbo, now slide out, wringing out a tired groan from her throat. It merges into a breathy moan when those two same slippery digits swipe against her beautifully hard clit from side to side.

This time, Bilbo’s body is already taut with tension from the beginning, both of her fists coming down to clench and release on Thorin’s hair. It’s easy to reach a rhythm that has Bilbo’s feet twitching against Thorin’s legs, and lungs working hard to keep up with the fast rise in pleasure.

Her hand seems to be enough for Bilbo, so Thorin concentrates on watching the lovely contractions on her face, her mouth slack with silent screams, only gasps and pants coming out of it, eyebrows furrowed, light orange eyelashes stuck together. When Thorin pauses for a moment, to bring her digits up again after they slide down, Bilbo opens her eyes, possibly to ask her to continue.

Even when Thorin resumes her speedy motions, Bilbo doesn’t look away, her lids only closing from ecstasy, and opening right after to maintain her gaze. It’s hypnotic, and absolutely satisfactory to connect so deeply while bringing bliss to the person in front of her. After mere minutes, Bilbo’s huffing, and holding on for her life, clutching Thorin’s hair tightly with both hands. Her eyes roll back, fists fumbling, as if trying to climb, each pull on her scalp making Thorin’s spine tingle with pleasure. Probably from how she’s lying, clothed legs crossed, applying constant pressure against her own groin, Thorin’s surprised by a spasm that leaves her squirming. Bilbo’s thighs lock her hand in place while they rock together, their moans making chords, foreheads nearly touching.

They’re both gasping for air, breath mingling in their stuffy corner of the room. Thorin opens her eyes and focuses on the smiling, flushed face underneath her, the joy of being held by two shaky arms bigger than what her chest can contain. Looking up and down her features, Thorin gives in to the necessity of kissing.

Haltingly, gently, giving her plenty of time to turn away, Thorin lowers her lips onto Bilbo’s. All she can think of is how her left shoulder creaks with pain from how much it’s been holding the weight of her upper body up, how sweaty they both are, the outside of their lips clammy when they finally meet. It’s such an important occasion, but it feels simple for Thorin. Bilbo’s eyes widen for a moment, and then squeeze shut while they move softly.

Thorin can feel Bilbo’s jaw opening for them to deepen the kiss, but the next step is small, only pecks, calm caresses, before lifting away, and starting all over again. It’s addictive, the sound they make is loud to Thorin’s ears, but she wants to keep making it, while Bilbo’s arms still hold them together.

What takes them out of their little bubble is Bilbo’s hips tilting to the side, and suddenly Thorin realizes how sticky and cold her hand is, all of her limbs cooling down after the exertion, skin glued to the damp couch fabric. Agreeing with her own brain that it’s time to let go, Thorin leaves a tender kiss on Bilbo’s darkened lips, the last one before they stop. Allowing her pointy nose to run against Bilbo’s, Thorin smiles, admiring her for the umpteenth time.

‘You’re a wonder.’ Thorin admits, wishing her right hand was dry, so she could caress Bilbo’s face.

A heavy second of quietness goes by while Thorin watches Bilbo’s brow furrow, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She hopes it’s a good sign.

‘Do you understand how I feel, now? I’m in love with you. I want you to be with me. I can’t hold it in anymore.’ Thorin hears herself speaking, scared at having exposed herself, but at the same time absolutely relieved and optimistic for the future after having finally confessed. ‘Sorry, I… I realize it’s a lot to take in, but…’

Bilbo’s eyes dart while looking hard at Thorin’s expression, her throat moving with a swallow. Her fingers rake at Thorin’s hair while she stares forward, noticeably thinking about how to answer. It takes her a few long, slow blinks before there are any words.

‘I… I have to think about it,’ she mutters, smiling tightly, hands stopping at Thorin’s wide shoulders.

‘That’s fine, take all the time you need,’ Thorin rushes to say, wanting to revert to a more comfortable topic for both of them. ‘Let me grab a few tissues for us.’

 

* * *

 

The rest of the evening is spent cleaning up, and preparing to take Bilbo home. It’s marked with a few hesitant silences, but they make it to the car, and before Thorin has time to say anything else, they’re already parked in front of Bag End.

She opens the car door, planning on walking around to help her guest out, but Bilbo’s already up, distractedly searching for her house keys inside her bulky bag. Awkwardly, Thorin simply presses the lock button on her remote control, and accompanies Bilbo to the gate.

Not expecting to be asked to come inside, Thorin feels the need to say, ‘Let me walk you to the entrance?’

Bilbo nods, and shuffles to the side for both of them to fit, before leading the way across the wide stone path. There’s barely any time to think, but Thorin tries not to assume that Bilbo’s acting reticent because of the ending of the date. For all she knows, they’re both tired, and still recovering from three bottles of wine (or more.)

‘Thanks for the lovely evening, Thorin,’ Bilbo looks up to say once the front door’s unlocked. She’s probably not pushing it open because of her cat, Thorin thinks amusedly. ‘I’ll er… let you know. About the…’

‘Yeah, sure. Please do.’

Thorin swallows. It’s hard to make out in the faint garden lights what expression Bilbo’s wearing, but perhaps it’s fine to give her a final kiss goodnight, before leaving. Her body comes forward in jerks, again giving enough time for Bilbo to realize what’s happening, but Thorin’s lips make contact with the soft skin of the hobbit’s cheek instead.

‘Good night.’


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thank-you to Mcmanatea, ahiddenkitty, and mithrilbikini for the beta work, and the cheering! ♥

Despite having gone to sleep close to sunrise, Thorin staggers out of bed at 9AM, her body loudly complaining about the mistreatments of last night. Dís had asked for her help buying and transporting groceries for the family gathering that weekend. As much as Thorin would like to catch up on sleep, her sister will kick her apartment door open if she isn’t there to meet Dís before midday.

Her body shivers when her sleep-warm feet touch the cold tiles of the floor. She looks at the rumpled gray rug sitting a few meters away, that usually prevents this exact discomfort from happening, but her brain is too sluggish to command her limbs to drag it into place. At least she’s sitting up on the bed, with no real danger of falling back asleep, and being late. Her thick fingers scratch at her stubbly face, and press on her gritty eyes. She really doesn’t want to go outside today.

The phone buzzes on the nightstand, and Thorin squints through a shadow of a headache behind her right eye while picking it up, and sees that Dís has left her a bunch messages in the last hour.

> Dís: Wake up, wake up! I hope you slept well.  
> Dís: What time are you going to be here?  
> Dís: I need to have the meat cooking by 11AM, so…  
> Dís: I could bring you some breakfast in the car, if you want.  
> Dís: Or we could stop by a cafe, or something?  
> Dís: Are you up? I can see that you’re online.

A bubble of irritation forms in Thorin’s middle as she reads the messages, and she remembers that even though she loves her little sister, it always feels like this. Thorin needs to be perfect, on time, always ready and willing to take care of the family, or Dís will make sure she knows she’s lacking.

> _Thorin: I’m up. I’ll take a shower and eat here, so I’ll let you know when I’m in the car._

Seeking relief from responsibility, Thorin skips checking the family chat (which seems to be bursting with Dís’s messages) and clicks on her conversation with Bilbo. The last contact was when Bilbo told her the address to her cousin’s house.

She wants to ask how Bilbo had enjoyed last night. Even though it might be pushy, and not something she tends to do, it feels necessary. The way Bilbo turned her face away to receive Thorin’s kiss on her cheek instead of her lips left a huge weight of uncertainty behind.

Although, the memory of the entire date makes Thorin’s heartbeat accelerate: how Bilbo received the gifts; how they cuddled on the sofa; how they made love, and had finally shared a kiss; how Bilbo had defended her publicly. Maybe, as usual, it’s just Thorin’s self-esteem making her doubt herself. The date went perfectly, and she knew Bilbo would be taking the time to think on her proposition. It’d be best to give her some space and let her consider in peace, without Thorin breathing down her neck. Thorin forces the phone back down, and pulls herself up from the bed. It’s way too early to think of leaving needy messages, and Bilbo is probably asleep, anyway.

Wondering what Bilbo might be doing is a much more pleasant motivator than Dís’s fussing. While in the shower, Thorin lets her hands (and mind) wander, and memories of the hobbit’s touches resurface. Massaging her scalp is a bittersweet pleasure: not as nice as when a handsy partner pulls her hair, but it’s still wonderful to remember. Even where Bilbo hasn’t touched - such as her left shoulder, which is sore from being leaned on for so long - Thorin feels herself smiling while kneading the pain away. Aches such as these are a joy to remember, contrary to those she used to get while working in the factory, or the ones she still gets while training. She hopes next time she and Bilbo share intimacy, her body will once again have beautiful things to relive.

Thorin’s rushing out of the house after losing track of time in the shower, stuffing a piece of strawberry pie in her mouth while getting inside her car, and leaving a badly-typed message to Dís. She doesn’t bother to check her phone again, since Dís is already waiting for her outside her apartment building, looking furious.

‘You’re _late,_ ’ greets Dís, while dropping herself aggressively in the passenger’s seat.

Scoffing, Thorin accelerates the car as soon as her sister closes the door. She doesn’t need to glance at the clock blinking on the front unit to know it’s barely 10AM. ‘Funny that, since we hadn’t even set a time to meet.’

From the corner of her eye, she sees Dís pouting and looking out the window. ‘Well, I… I’d been waiting for ages. And you hardly answered my messages, I thought you weren’t coming at all.’

‘I had a late night. Unless you wanted me unshowered, and in my pyjamas, I had to get ready,’ Thorin grunts. ‘And you’re welcome for the ride, by the way.’

Dís huffs, but her tone is at least apologetic. ‘Thank you. But the dinner is also for your benefit, you know.’

Thorin rolls her eyes, but continues following the GPS’s instructions to Dís’s preferred market. The silence between them is tense with unsaid complaints. She knows Dís is looking for reasons to get defensive, and to excuse her own rudeness by placing the blame on the situation, or on Thorin herself. Both of them know that Thorin’s lateness is harmless.

‘And how come you had a late night?’ Dís asks, crossing her arms. ‘You told me you were working yesterday.’

Thorin’s mind is flooded with passive-aggressive responses, but mostly she doesn’t want to hint that she had a date with Bilbo. Or mention Bilbo at all.

‘I just slept late,’ she mumbles, knowing that Dís won’t let it go so easily.

‘Oh yeah? So did you forget you had to pick me up early today?’

Thorin’s hands grip the wheel, and she can hear the plastic groaning. ‘Do I need your permission to stay up at night, now?’

Since they’ve stopped at a red light, Thorin can see the sardonic smile on her sister’s face.

‘Whatever. I still don’t buy it.’

Thorin has to distract herself by counting to ten, so she won’t rise up to Dís’s bait. Her sister knows how to poke people to get answers. Thorin had long ago discovered that leaving her in silence was the most effective countermeasure, and it’s a relief for her growing headache, to let their bickering fizzle into silence until they reach the store.

 

* * *

 

Despite feeling annoyed, Thorin ends up spending the whole day with Dís, helping her with the food, and waiting until it’s time to pick up her nephews from school. “Víli is the one who usually does this, but he’s been taking up extra work lately, so he can get days off and travel with his family,” Dís repeats to Thorin for the third time this week, the first two having been typed on the private chat with her, and then on the open chat with their cousins. It’s difficult for her to reply to comments like these, which sound like boasting, especially after having heard them so many times.

Thorin sighs in frustration, and leaves to the bathroom as a way to escape from the awkwardness of the kitchen, and to check her phone for any new messages from Bilbo. It’s already past 3PM, and there’s nothing new in the chat, which is strange. It would have been even stranger if it was a normal day, since Bilbo checks in on her every single day. But since it’s only a few hours after Thorin had asked her to be her girlfriend, she tries not to read too much into it, even though her stomach already feels like it’s heavy with lead.

Once she’s back at the dinner table, Dís doesn’t seem to notice Thorin was gone for such a long time, since she doesn’t make any remarks and continues stirring the broth. When her alarm rings to pick Fíli and Kíli up, however, she jumps.

‘Gosh, time flew! I thought I’d be done with at least the chicken, before fetching the boys.’

Thorin cuts in, before Dís has the opportunity to ask her to go alone. ‘Stay, I can go by myself.’

‘Can you? Thanks. I’ll fix some snacks for everyone in the meantime,’ she says, while Thorin takes her coat from the hanger.

Thorin says nothing, since she won’t be able to escape having at least an afternoon snack with them, but some time away from Dís will help clear her head a bit, and she'll have less of a problem standing her ground about leaving early. It’s not a good idea to stay for dinner tonight. Thorin’s already at wit’s end, and she doesn’t want to snap in front of children.

Kíli screeches in happiness at seeing his aunt at the gate, and runs to hug her, leaving his backpack behind, forgotten, next to Fíli. The older of the two comes after them, half-heartedly complaining at Kíli’s forgetfulness, but mostly seeming excited at the novelty of being picked up by Thorin. Her younger nephew always accepts being carried, and she picks him up, feeling much lighter already, even while avoiding half of the squirming pebble’s kissing attempts.

‘Where’s amad?’ Fíli asks, while helping Thorin tie the safety belt around Kíli, once at the car.

‘She’s still cooking for the family dinner we’re having this weekend, remember?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Fíli pauses after they’re done, and looks at the front seat, where his mother usually sits while picking them up.

Thorin follows his gaze, and tries to remember what it’s like to be 9 years old. She’s not as popular with children as Frerin, but she at least makes an effort. ‘Fíli? Do you want to ride in the front with me?’ The house is less than 10 minutes away from their school, but she can recall how special she felt when her father let her sit next to him.

The eager nod and sparkle in Fíli’s eye are worth the danger of Dís ever finding out about it.

‘Okay, but be sure the belt is on safely. And that it isn’t hurting your neck.’ Thorin frets, but Fíli is a very smart child, and is already lowering the shoulder belt before sitting. ‘Good job. So, how was school, guys?’

‘We drew leaves in art class!’ Kíli pipes up, and she can hear him fiddling with his bag to find the drawing. ‘Look!’

‘I’ll show her when we stop at a red light, Kíli.’ Fíli says, while taking the crumpled piece of paper from his brother.

‘That sounds great, dear. You’ve been drawing so much. I hope you become an artist! You could illustrate covers for my albums,’ Thorin comments, and waits for Kíli to mumble his agreement before continuing. ‘And you, Fíli?’

He seems to be watching Thorin’s driving carefully, perhaps trying to understand how to do it. ‘Nothing fun happened. We’re having a test next week, so we don’t have any projects.’ Fíli’s knees bounce up and down, his feet not close to reaching the floor. It’s a lot different from having Bilbo riding next to her. ‘And you?’

‘Me? Erm...’ Thorin wonders what’s appropriate to share with them. Perhaps the fact that she hasn’t slept well, it’ll help explain why she won’t be joining them for dinner. ‘I didn’t sleep much last night. But I’m doing fine.’

‘Did you go out with your friend? Bilbo?’ Fíli asks, not aware he’d just caused his aunt’s heart to almost stop.

Glancing at his face tells Thorin he’s not trying to provoke her, like Dís would do. ‘Um. Yeah.’

‘I can’t wait to grow up, and be allowed to go out with girls, too!’ He says, enthusiastically. ‘Oh, and don’t worry, I won’t tell my mom.’

Smiling, Thorin reaches to the side to ruffle Fíli’s curly blond hair. ‘Thanks. Don’t tell her about me letting you ride in front, either. Or we’ll both go weeks without dessert.’

 

* * *

 

The next two days pass without any contact from Bilbo. It takes all of Thorin’s self-control not to send her a message, since every time she stops to imagine the subsequent conversation, it always ends in awkwardness. She wants to just hop inside her car and drive up to the hobbit’s house, but out of respect, (for Bilbo, and her own pride) she stays put.

Besides, since the family dinner is taking place at her cousin Glóin’s country house, Thorin’s been summoned as one of the official drivers for those without cars, and to take the food from both Dís’s and Bombur’s kitchens. It takes up her entire Friday, which comes as both a relief and a disappointment, since she wants to know what’s keeping Bilbo from answering. At least Thorin enjoys spending time with most of her family, and ever since she stopped working with them, there haven’t been other situations as perfect as this to catch up with them.

Her last trip to the city is around 2AM on Saturday. Thorin has to wake Frerin up, then wait through the commotion that is shoving what must be a month’s worth of suitcases inside the car boot, and finally seat two whiny, sleepy children on their parents’ laps. This trip is usually noisy, stressful, and a little dangerous, since the children tend to get incredibly excited about traveling, or they get nauseated, and Dís often yells for Thorin to pull over in the middle of the highway. But this time they’re mostly asleep, and they arrive safely, with no action figures flying against the windshield.

The country house is immense, purchased for the exact purpose of accommodating the entire family for vacations and meet-ups. Each room is assigned based on the number of people sharing, and like every year, Thorin stays with her siblings, brother-in-law, and nephews. It’s always a fight to decide who’s sleeping on the top bunk, but Frerin wins when Dís forbids the children from doing it. They’re all so tired from having been awoken in the middle of the night that they fall asleep between their equally tired parents, not even complaining about having lost the right to sleep dangerously.

Frerin carelessly chucks his frankly grungy-looking backpack onto the bunk bed, and normally, Thorin would choose to drag out the mattress below the queen-sized trundle bed, but she’s afraid of waking her family up in the process. So she squeezes to sit on the bottom bunk, having changed the linen carelessly, since she’ll probably want to sleep in a bigger bed, and will have to change it again. She merely removes her sweater and leggings, not bothering to change into her pyjamas in her tiredness from having driven so many kilometers back and forth across the country.

She’s looking at the chat with Bilbo before setting an alarm for tomorrow when Frerin pushes her legs to the side to sit on the bed with her.

‘So, how did it go?’ he asks quietly while fiddling with his sleep t-shirt (which looks as destroyed as the one he had before), before putting it on.

Thorin frowns while distractedly staring at a lonely, stray tuft of hair near Frerin’s belly roll. ‘How did what go?’

‘You know! Your _thing_ with the hobbit? You told me you’d ask her…’

‘ _Shh!_ God, okay, that. Yes.’ Thorin’s heart is threatening to jump out her mouth, and she guiltily looks over at where Dís is curled up on her side, to check if she heard anything. At least from what she can discern in the darkness, her sister seems to be resting deeply. ‘I did ask her. But she needed time to think about it, given our complicated circumstances.’ Her eyebrows raise at that, hoping Frerin won’t reveal anything else.

‘I thought it was pretty obvious she was into you.’ Frerin finishes pulling his shirt down, and leans close to Thorin. ‘What you told me was like… you know? _Wow._ ’

She can’t stop the smile that forms on her face. ‘Well, yeah. But she hasn’t sent me any messages since then. I’m trying not to worry, but I’m pretty nervous,’ Thorin admits.

‘Don’t fret, sis. You’re doing the right thing, letting her have some space to breathe. You’ll see, though. I bet she wants to tell you the good news when you meet in real life.’ He says, elbowing her hip and smiling radiantly.

‘I hope so…’

Thorin bids him goodnight before he climbs up the bunk bed stairs noisily, the wood frames creaking while he fidgets. It’s a while before she drifts off into restless dreams of forgetfulness and confusion.

 

* * *

 

Saturday goes by busily, what with all the eating with family, and watching them play sports in the yard. They go swimming during Summer, but it’s been far too cold for any activity that requires wearing less than trousers and coats. More cousins arrive as the day goes by. Dáin occupies even more of Thorin’s day once he arrives, a flurry of red hair, happy screaming, and tackling her to the floor.

He manages to pry her away from helping out either in the kitchen, or in setting up the volleyball net and trampoline, which she appreciates greatly. Being in the kitchen means subjecting herself to Dís’s tenseness and rude commands, completely unconstrained now that Fíli and Kíli are elsewhere. Dáin stops by to kiss them, before pushing Thorin towards the billiards room.

‘Mahal, Dáin, what’s the rush?’ Thorin says, while slapping his arms away. ‘Can’t we talk in front of everyone? They’ll think we’re having a thing.’

Dáin looks around the room, ignoring Thorin’s joke, and when he only sees Balin and Dori in the corner, he closes the door, and pulls her to sit on one of the lush chairs near the fire.

‘Thorin, you won’t believe this. I wanted to tell you before anyone else, since I still don’t know if it’s a hundred percent certain.’ He’s holding Thorin’s wrists, and his eyes are wide as saucers. ‘The video was a success. I showed it to a few people in the studio, and they showed it to friends, and long story short, it may be nominated for an award!’

‘R-really?’ Thorin gapes at him, not sure if she’s misunderstanding through the heavy accent. From his blissful face, she probably heard it right. ‘That’s amazing, cousin! Congratulations!’ She’s definitely not shocked that his hard work would lead him to success, but being nominated is a huge accomplishment, no matter how talented he is.

‘Congratulations to _us!_ I heard they loved the soundtrack. So you could be the one taking that prize home, really,’ Dáin laughs, punching her in the arm playfully. ‘Now, I’m gonna say hi to everyone. I’ll let you know if it’s really happening. See ya.’

She’s left speechless, sitting in the dim room, hair mussed from Dáin’s noogie. A prize, for her soundtrack? Thorin really can’t believe it. She didn’t even consider that the soundtrack could win a prize separately from the video, let alone her own work. She barely notices when Dori slips by her, waving an embarrassed hello, and leaves the room quietly.

When she stirs again, it’s only because Balin sits in the space next to her on the sofa, and his weight bounces her up and down on the cushion.

‘Lassie, are you alright?’

‘Yeah, uh… Dáin just told me we could win a prize for his video. You know, that one I was working on?’ Thorin shares the news with Balin, knowing he won’t spread it around. And he’d be one of the first people who she’d want to tell, anyway.

‘What, really?’ He asks, looking astonished. When she nods, his smile is genuine. ‘That’s incredible! I always knew you would achieve great things, kid.’

Thorin shakes her head, laughing. ‘Thank you. But he doesn’t know if it’s true yet, so keep it between us, please.’

‘I will. But I mean it!’ Balin insists, not accepting her shrug as a response to his praise. ‘Listen, I remember how you’d argue with your father about your career. I want you to realize how hard-working and capable you are. You’ve done well.’

This makes Thorin feel like she has a knot in her throat. So as to not cry in front of her cousin, she nods, and looks down. ‘...thank you, Balin.’

A fatherly squeeze on her arm makes her look up to see Balin grinning. A moment of silence goes by before they speak again.

‘You seem well, though. Looking healthy. Have you been going to the Pink Azalea Parlor?’

Thorin’s head snaps up. ‘I-I have, yeah.’

‘Oh, that’s great! I knew it’d do you good.’ Balin’s tone is innocent, thankfully. It’d be awkward if he was commenting on the sexual aspect of the sessions. ‘Do you need some help to pay for it?’

‘No, no. I’ve been fine. I’ll ask you if I do need it.’ Thorin’s nervous, but she has to tell Balin about the entire Bilbo situation. ‘Actually, there’s something else. The masseuse and I really hit it off, and we’ve been going on dates, and talking almost every day. I... sort of have a crush on her.’

Balin’s eyebrows raise, and his smiling lips purse in an obvious attempt at not exclaiming. ‘Do you, now? But with her… Is it a she, then?’

‘Yes. Her name is Bilbo.’

‘I see. Well, with her career… I mean, not that it’s a bad thing. What she does is fine.’ Balin trips on his words, trying not to be offensive. Looking up at Thorin’s eyes, he asks, finally. ‘Do you want to try to be with her?’

Thorin swallows. It seems Balin would advise against it, if he could. ‘On our last date, I asked her to be my girlfriend.’

Whatever Balin was getting ready to say is left unsaid while his eyebrows pinch in the middle. His eyes are tender as he watches Thorin’s face. ‘Oh, lass. I’m happy for it. I must admit, I was hoping something lucky would happen, but nothing this lovely.’ He fiddles with his long beard for a second. ‘I don’t know her, if you’re curious. I didn’t get a massage from her.’

‘I have a picture of her here.’ Thorin fishes her cellphone from her back pocket, and goes into Bilbo’s online profile for a picture. She turns the screen for Balin to see, who first has to put his tiny reading glasses on.

‘She seems wonderful. I can’t tell with hobbits, since they’re so bare, but is she close to your age?’

Laughing, Thorin nods. ‘She’s only three years younger.’

‘Even better. Again, I’m really happy for you. Are you going to bring her to the next family reunion?’ Balin winks at her, while giving the phone back.

Her hand automatically raises to scratch at her head. ‘I don’t… I haven’t heard her answer yet. She told me she needs to think about it first. It was only two days ago.’

‘Well, that’s fine. Do bring her next time, though. We’ll want to meet her,’ Balin says, getting up from the sofa and leaving the room.

Thorin imagines entering the house with Bilbo’s arm hooked in hers. As much as that makes her smile, she also imagines the hobbit’s reaction to all the bawdy tales, pinching, and punching that are shared when her cousins gather, and decides against it.

 

* * *

 

She’s happily buzzed and filled with food after dinner, having drunk many mugs of mulled wine and tried a bit of every dish on the buffet table. Thorin sits next to Frerin and Dáin, and compared to them, she feels incredibly sober.

While they giggle about a joke she doesn’t really understand, she squints past them to see what’s going on in the dinner hall. It’s loud, and all the dwarves are either flushed with drunkenness, or working hard to get there. The quietest seem to be Dís and Víli, who are simultaneously trying to speak to the dwarrowdams sitting opposite them and feed their sons, while the boys do their best to out-yell the entire hall. Since they’re the youngest children in the family, they’ve always been popular in these gatherings, and they seem to enjoy the attention.

After an efficient group effort to clean the dishes, Thorin wobbles her way to the bedroom to relieve herself, wondering if she should go back to the living room to talk to Dáin some more. Upon exiting the en-suite bathroom, she’s surprised to see Dís sitting on one of the beds, alone.

‘Do you need help to bring the boys up to sleep?’ Thorin asks, not knowing what her sister might be doing waiting for her.

‘No, I was waiting for you to come out. I need to ask you something.’ Dís’s tone is serious, and Thorin tries her best to appear completely sober.

‘Go ahead.’

Dís pushes her long hair back, and looks at Thorin’s face intensely. ‘What’s going on this Bilbo person? Are you _really_ dating her?’

Thorin blanches. Even through the warm haze of alcohol, she can feel an unpleasant drip of cold anxiety slide down her spine. ‘What?’

‘You heard me. You’ve been hiding it from me.’ Dís’s hands clench into fists next to her lap.

‘For a _reason,_ ’ Thorin lets slip out.

Her sister’s face looks horrified. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

Sighing, Thorin rubs her eyes with clumsy fingers. ‘I didn’t want you to know because you wouldn’t approve of it. You’d judge me.’

‘You don’t know that! When have I ever stopped you from doing anything?’ Dís’s voice is getting shriller and louder.

‘When you told my secrets to ama and ada? When you want to fish every truth out of me, just so you can feel superior?’ Thorin’s seeing red, and the words are just worming out of her belly without her control.

‘I don’t _want_ to feel superior to anyone! Where’s all that coming from? It has nothing to do with what I asked you. Who’s Bilbo?’

Thorin’s breath is shaky. ‘Why do you even want to know?’

‘Because from what I heard from Balin, you seem to be in love with her. But I looked that Pink Azalea place up, and it…’ Dís starts, but seeing the expression on Thorin’s face makes her falter.

‘Did he... _tell_ you about Bilbo?’

‘No, I overheard you earlier. And I heard your chat with Frerin. You’re keeping me out of your life, and…’

Thorin waves her hand once for her sister to stop. ‘ _You overheard me with Balin?_ We were having a private conversation. I didn’t see you in the room.’

Dís looks down at her own feet. ‘I was standing by the door. But only because I was so curious, you-’

‘ _How_ can you say this so calmly? You invaded my privacy! I didn’t want to tell you about any of this, but here you are, pushing me against the wall to spit it out for you to collect, or something? I’m sick of being treated as your _doll,_ Dís.’ Thorin pants with anger and breathlessness.

‘And I’m sick of you shutting me out, and you being so damn rude! I’m not trying to collect anything. You always think the worst of me, and never listen to my advice. I feel like I’m not even important in your life anymore.’ Dís’s eyes are watering while she yells.

Thorin groans and grabs at her own hair in frustration. ‘I don’t want you to try to mother me just because you think I need the help. I had a mother until recently. I don’t need to listen to your advice for you to continue being important to me. But you don’t respect me, or my decisions! You seem to think all I do is stupid, just because I’m trying to live a life different to what you think is socially acceptable.’

‘I’m… I don’t try to _mother_ you, I…’ Dís starts, but Thorin cuts in.

‘Yes, you do. And you know it. I don’t need your help to take care of myself. I go to your house because I _enjoy_ seeing you and your family. I don’t need love advice. I don’t need pity. I don’t want to have children like you. I don’t want a strong dwarven husband to provide for me. And I also like privacy. I don’t need to tell you literally everything that happens in my life. We’re _not_ pebbles anymore,’ Thorin concludes.

‘You tell all of that to Balin and Frerin, instead. How am I supposed to feel about that? I’m your _sister._ ’ Dís stands up from the bed, and crosses her arms in front of her chest.

Thorin sighs. ‘I told them because I knew they wouldn’t try to meddle. They would let me live my own life, and make my own decisions.’

‘But Thorin, listen to me. This girl… is she really a _prostitute?’_

A second passes where Thorin can feel her own jaw straining with tension. ‘ _Have you listened to anything I said, Dís?_ I was being serious, this isn’t just bickering.’

Dís narrows her eyes. ‘Alright, but this IS serious. How could you be asking a hooker to date you? Don’t you know…’

_‘ **ENOUGH!** ’_

Before Thorin follows her gut instinct of breaking her sister’s rib with a punch, she pushes past her, and slams the bedroom door shut. Despite being followed with shouts for her to come back, her brain barely reacts, only wanting to put distance between her and Dís. Grabbing her coat on the way out of the house, she goes on a long, blind, angry walk around the large perimeter of the property.

During the next few enraged few hours, she ends up pulling her phone out and leaving a voice message for Bilbo, asking to meet her for a session in the first available time slot.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, and especially in the case of this chapter, I want to thank the enormous help of my beta babes: ahiddenkitty, mithrilbikini, and mcmanatea! You guys are the ones who make this readable ♥

The stress of packing Dís’s kitchen supplies while not looking at her face during the morning eats away at Thorin’s nerves. She keeps checking her phone every two minutes while waiting for her family to get ready to leave, hoping it will keep any other nosy relatives at bay. By some luck, everyone in the house is moving sluggishly, so no one asks why she’s in such a sullen mood. Dís tries once to pull her aside, but immediately deflates upon seeing the expression on Thorin’s face, and wisely chooses to leave her be.

The trip back home is much quicker, and the car is mostly silent; Kíli and Fíli are asleep, which is a great excuse for not starting any conversations. Thorin doesn’t step out of the car to help Víli and Dís with their luggage, electing to let Frerin do it for once.

It’s midday when Thorin checks her phone again, to see that Bilbo’s left a perfunctory answer by text. That in itself is strange, since they have an unspoken deal of replying in the same manner whenever one of them sends a voice mail.

> _Bilbo: You can come for a massage on Monday._

On one hand, it’s a relief to have Bilbo acknowledge her at all, but it drops a weight of worry in her lower stomach, to see such disinterest from the hobbit.

Frerin doesn’t try to start any deep conversations on the way to his apartment building, and Thorin feels a little guilty at his worried expression when she kisses him goodbye. After she gets an answer from Bilbo, whatever it may be, she’ll stop by his house again to apologize properly.

She gets home and does every chore left undone before leaving for the weekend. Doing laundry, washing dishes, throwing spoiled food away, taking the trash out, nothing is enough to unwind the coil of anxiety tightening in her chest. The best outlet for Thorin’s frustration is training, sparring, or just punching anything in sight. Her phone buzzes in her back pocket, and she thanks Mahal, or whatever deity is kind enough to listen, for the fact that Dwalin had just arrived in town. Maybe he’ll agree to a workout.

While texting him, he mentions that he only has the time for a quick visit. It’s understandable, Thorin thinks, since he’ll need to stop by at his family’s house as well. She tells him to buy some drinks at the convenience store, and hops in the shower, since she’s been running around since early morning.

The intercom rings in the kitchen twenty minutes later, and Dolir, the guard, informs her that Dwalin has arrived. She allows him to enter, and unlocks the door. Upon seeing him, she feels a wave of nostalgia and comfort, even while he’s rushing in for a rib-cracking hug.

‘Thorin! I can’t _believe_ how much you haven’t changed.’ Dwalin’s holding her at arm’s length, looking at her face in wonder.

‘I can’t believe you got your _scalp_ tattooed! What is this?’ Thorin breaks free from his grip with effort, and brings his head down roughly. ‘You look like a thug, this is amazing-’

Thorin stops talking when she sees Nori at the end of the hall, waving ‘hi.’

‘You didn’t tell me you were bringing her with you, you piece of trash. Hi!’ Thorin shoves him aside to shake hands with the ginger dwarf. ‘Come in, both of you.’

‘We can’t stay for too long today, Balin and Dori are waiting for us at my old house,’ Dwalin says, while setting his heavy weight on the sofa.

Thorin takes the plastic bag with bottles of juice and beer from Nori’s hands, and rushes to the kitchen to grab three glasses. ‘Yeah, yeah, right. But I want to see you again before you leave. No sneaking off in the dark like last time.’

‘That was my fault, Thorin! Sorry. I had work to do back home.’ Nori scratches her head, hovering near the kitchen door.

‘It’s alright, I was just joking. Here, let’s have a sip before you two have to go for your _fun_ date.’

Dwalin snorts loudly, and Thorin grins. It’s obviously an obligatory family visit, and the probability of it being fun only depends on how much alcohol is ingested during the conversation with their respective siblings.

‘Your house looks much nicer now, I gotta say,’ Dwalin jokes, crossing his legs and holding his ankle with one hand above his knee. ‘You even have a couch.’

‘I know, right? It’s almost as if I had the time and funds to buy furniture.’ Thorin almost chokes on her juice when Dwalin pokes her with his elbow. ‘I hope work’s been good for you guys, too.’

Dwalin spreads his hands in a so-so gesture, and Nori nods. ‘Speaking of which, how did that book cover thing work out for you?’

‘Oh, yeah, um… She seems to appreciate the gift, but I haven’t spoken much to her after it. There hasn’t been time.’

Thorin avoids looking at Dwalin, who thankfully doesn’t push to know more. Nori smiles. ‘I’m glad! I’m eager to work on a cover again, it’s been a while since I did one. Oh!’ She turns around in her seat, her long braid nearly slapping Dwalin with the abrupt movement. ‘It’d be great to speak to her in person about it. We could all go out for a drink together.’

‘I wanna meet her, too,’ Dwalin grunts.

‘I’ll ask her about it tomorrow, then.’ Thorin forces a smile, and changes the subject.

After they leave, Thorin picks up her phone to see no new messages, and realizes she’s been biting her nails all night long, since they’re all rough and prickly. It’s odd, since she considers Dwalin’s visit a pleasure. Suddenly she can’t summon the energy to get up and find a file to smooth them, and continues biting on them while mindlessly watching television.

 

* * *

 

On her way to the Pink Azalea Parlor on the next day, Thorin’s stopped by the apartment guard, who has a paper bag for her to pick up. She thanks him profusely for the favor, and walks briskly to meet Bilbo. It’s barely 6PM, when Bilbo starts her shift, but she can’t sit still at home.

Bluebell lets her in, and she sits on the sofa that faces the stairs so she will see when Bilbo comes downstairs.

‘Would you like a glass of water? Or a cup of coffee? Bilbo might take a little while to receive you.’ Bluebell’s soft voice jars Thorin away from her thoughts.

‘Oh, alright. Some coffee would be nice.’

Thorin’s knee bounces up and down as soon as Bluebell disappears into a staff-only door, and she has to cross her arms not to bite her nails while waiting. So many scenarios of what may happen in the next half-hour pass in front of her eyes, that she’s nearly dizzy with anxiety. Most of them are based on the last message Bilbo sent. Thorin had half-expected Bilbo to ask after her, to worry for her, since she had just fought with Dís, but that hadn’t happened. Even though nothing besides her tone of voice had expressed distress in the message she’d sent Bilbo, Thorin frets over the lack of sympathy.

She tries to remember positive things: how Frerin had cheered for her, saying that Bilbo seemed to return her feelings; how Balin had supported her, and welcomed her into the family. But it’s unrealistic to expect that a bystander can understand the intricacies of such a relationship. Surely, Bilbo isn’t likely to accept Thorin as her girlfriend. She’s beautiful, adorable, and can date anyone she wants. Someone better than the inexperienced mess that is Thorin, too.

Even as Bluebell comes back to the reception room with a flowery cup on a tray, Thorin continues picking at her fingers and twitching her leg. She downs the coffee in a few gulps, places the cup on the table next to her, and leans forward, gradually becoming aware that she’s physically uncomfortable. Her back hurts where her bra is resting, her eyes sting, the beginnings of nausea is setting in, and she wipes sweat from her forehead. Noticing the odd silence in the room, Thorin looks left, and sees that Bluebell had been watching her, but averts her gaze quickly.

Thorin tries to contain her nervousness, scrolling mindlessly on her phone, opening and closing apps at random. What feels like a century later, she hears footsteps coming from the stairs. Thorin stands up immediately, dropping her phone on the floor, and rushes to grab it.

She doesn’t even check to see if her phone broke, because Bilbo is here, finally. It feels like it’s been weeks since they last spoke.

‘Is it okay?’ Bilbo asks, looking at Thorin’s hand.

‘Yeah, never mind that. Hi,’ Thorin says, brushing her hair behind her ear nervously. She’s awfully aware of how flushed she is.

‘Hi. Let’s go up?’ Bilbo says while leading their way up the stairs.

Thorin can’t help but look at Bilbo’s legs, clad in chocolate-colored pantyhose, the bounce of muscle and fat making the loose dark fabric of her long skirt cling to her behind. Although Thorin is dreading the future, she can’t help but imagine herself hugging Bilbo, and feeling the soft heat of Bilbo’s body through her clothes. And today, being rainy and chilly, has blessed Thorin with the sight of Bilbo wearing a leather jacket, which contrasts beautifully with her entire demeanour. She wonders how addictive the smell of Bilbo’s skin would be, once mixed with the warm leather of the jacket.

She’s too distracted to notice that Bilbo led them to the first massage room, which is equipped with a classic massage table, and the strange, mechanical-looking chair.

‘Could you change into your underwear? The robe is hanging from the hook behind the door, as usual.’ Bilbo has her back turned to Thorin while she prepares the oils for the session.

Thorin stops at the door, looking at the nape of Bilbo’s neck, feeling confused. ‘I actually wanted to talk, rather than get a massage.’

Bilbo turns around slowly. ‘You should have told me earlier. I…’ She hesitates, her hand flies up, and halts midway, to gesture Thorin to close the door. Her stance immediately closes off again, her arms crossing in front of her belly. ‘What did you want to say?’

Her mind blank from the palpable discomfort of the situation, Thorin feels around on her jacket pockets for the paper bag Dolir had prepared for her. ‘Here, this is for you.’

Thorin leaves the bag on the wooden sideboard, since Bilbo isn’t showing signs of uncrossing her arms. It makes the knot in her stomach tighten.

‘I’ll open it later. I’m actually busy, so I took time off to massage you. If you aren’t going to have your session, I ask you to be quick with this conversation.’ Bilbo’s tone isn’t harsh, but it still makes Thorin flinch.

It’s not the ideal setting for the question that’s threatening to escape from Thorin’s mouth. Not able to bear looking directly at Bilbo, whose gaze is glued to a spot on the wall, Thorin looks down. Her hand is shaking, and she can feel her throat closing. Not wanting to give into the pressure, or the danger of crying, she takes a deep, shaky breath. She swallows, and the words come out before she can measure them.

‘I… I suppose that from the way you’re treating me, it’s a “no,” huh?’

‘Is what a “no?”’ Bilbo asks, her eyes making contact with Thorin’s for a brief second before moving to stare at the wallpaper.

‘You don’t remember? I had asked you if you wanted to go out with me. As my _girlfriend.’_

‘Oh. I do… I do remember.’ Bilbo’s gaze softens, but she doesn’t come closer, or relax from her paralyzed position. ‘Thorin, I don’t think… I’m not sure if it’ll work out.’

It’s as if a hole opens beneath Thorin’s feet, and she can’t hold on before falling through it.

‘You’re very sweet, but… you know, it caught me off-guard. I was very confused when you suddenly asked me, I...’ Bilbo mutters. ‘Besides, are you sure of this? It’s hard to… you know, um… discern between feelings of lust and love. I suppose that not having been with _anyone_ before makes it even harder for you to understand.’

Thorin blinks the moisture away from her eyes, her enormous fear of falling apart in front of Bilbo dangerously close to happening.

Even though she’d normally agree with Bilbo, her words sound nearly offensive to Thorin’s ears. How could she accuse Thorin of not understanding her own heart? Thorin knows that the elation she felt every time Bilbo reached out to her wasn’t lust. After every session, her chest clenched and she yearned to be with Bilbo. Whenever Bilbo went out of her way to protect Thorin, or soothe her. Their dates. How sweet and genuinely hilarious Bilbo was, when they were eating together. When Bilbo crumbled and Thorin took her home. How she had worried for Bilbo, and thought of her situation. How she wished to be able to help. Bilbo had charmed Thorin completely, and the more they spent time together, the clearer it had become to Thorin that she’d never grow tired of her. What were those feelings, if not _adoration?_

And how dare Bilbo pretend that Thorin had interpreted her actions wrong? Bilbo had implied, again and again, how Thorin was special to her; that Thorin was the best client she’d ever had. Bilbo had called Thorin _‘love’_ so, so many times. Had shown her pieces of her private life, invited her in. Had welcomed her into knowing more. Had declared to have forgotten they were supposed to be in a professional relationship.

Had it all been a ruse to make Thorin interested?

‘Are you saying you never considered being with me?’ Thorin grits out between her teeth. ‘I thought that you were at least telling me the truth when we spoke to each other. Were you lying?’

‘Lying about what?’ Bilbo’s fingertips have turned white while gripping at her own arms.

‘I went to your house. I… know about your family. Your little nephew, your cat. Your novel. Was I really talking to Bilbo, or was it just a mask? A bait to reel me in, to mock me?’ Thorin can feel the flush coming back to her neck, from indignation this time, rather than embarrassment. ‘You called me “love,” and told me so many things. I thought you felt comfortable with me. You _said_ you did.’

Thorin steps closer, hands reaching forward to touch Bilbo. It causes Bilbo to startle, and rush backwards against the wall, her foot accidentally kicking the little stool to the side, making a racket. Making Thorin feel even more awkward.

‘I’m… I don’t know, Thorin.’ Bilbo’s hands have come down to rest beside her hips, fidgeting with the sideboard. ‘We can continue with our sessions, you know? It won’t change a thing.’

Shaking her head, Thorin can’t believe how superficially Bilbo is treating this subject. It _IS_ going to change; Thorin is painfully aware she will never be able to stomach the little game of pretend that Bilbo will certainly play. It’s impossible.

Even though Bilbo seems distracted by the half-open door behind them, Thorin soldiers on. ‘I can’t, I really… I like you. I never thought... ‘ Thorin sniffs, even though no tears are allowed to roll, ‘I wouldn’t have stayed for a second massage if it wasn’t for you. I never thought I’d find love in such a place. I thought I would get a back massage, and that would be the end of it. But every time, I kept coming back to see _you,_ and slowly I realized that it wasn’t just…You see, lust is there, but I won’t endure being intimate with you without knowing I can ever dream of holding you close. Of taking you home, and sharing a bed with you. Dating you, kissing you. Meeting your family. Calling you, and hearing your voice after a hard day. I love all of you, not just the part I see here at the Parlor. If you don’t want me to have it, then I don’t…’

Thorin takes in a difficult breath, it feels too much like a sob. Words fail her, so she admits there’s not much else to say. Her body feels weak, sick.

Gathering strength to risk a glance at Bilbo, she sees the hobbit’s eyes resting on hers, her brows turned up in sadness, and her limbs finally looking relaxed.

‘Thorin...’ Bilbo starts, but the loud sound of steps coming quickly up the stairs shock them both out of the moment.

The door swings open, and a hobbit dressed in black stands stiffly in the threshold. ‘Is there a problem, miss?’

Thorin’s rattled thoughts don’t follow the chain of events. This is clearly a security guard of some sort, judging by the tools on his belt, and his uniform. Is there a fire? Looking from the guard to Bilbo, she tries to piece it together. It’s not until she sees the mortified expression on Bilbo’s face that she understands it. If at all possible, Thorin feels even more like she’s falling freely from a cliff.

_Bilbo had called security on Thorin._ That’s why her hands were fidgeting before, there must be some sort of button on the back of the furniture.

‘No, you can go, Odo. I… it was an accident.’ Bilbo’s voice is shaky, but Thorin doesn’t dare look up to see her face again.

The security guard hovers for a moment at the door, before leaving silently. There’s a dead silence in the room, but in Thorin’s ears, it’s a loud pumping of blood with her fast heartbeat, her entire body suddenly feeling chilly from misery. Bilbo had installed this security system after the client who had invaded her private life. The one Thorin had cursed, and thought was absurd for treating Bilbo so badly. A stalker, a lunatic.

What does that say about Thorin?

Thorin’s chin quivers, and she turns her back to Bilbo to roughly press her palms to her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll leave.’

‘Thorin, _no!_ I’m sorry. I-I was nervous, I didn’t know what…’

‘You see me as a threat. I ca- I won’t stay.’ Thorin would look back at Bilbo if her cheeks were dry. ‘I’ll leave the payment for the last sessions some other day. Bye.’

Her pace is loose and senseless as she goes away, since she can’t feel her feet. Even though it’s such a slow walk, she isn’t followed home.

 

* * *

 

Thorin doesn’t leave her bed to answer the phone, not even after the second day of only getting up to use the bathroom, and eating bites of whatever food is easiest to prepare.

Monday evening, she had changed out of her clothes into pajamas, and sat on the sofa, staring, unblinking, at the television set, until sunrise. She thought she would break down and cry as soon as she closed the front door, but her mind was hazy, all thoughts lost and distant in a grey cloud in her brain.

Every time she thinks of Bilbo, her own mind seems to send in more fog, making her forget what happened between them, as if to protect her from feeling. It’s hard to think of other things to focus on, since she’s used to going back again and again remembering the freckles on Bilbo’s cheeks, her sniffles, her sweet nasal voice, and her light eyelashes. Those memories fade to nothingness, and only void is left behind.

Her entire body trembles with emotion, and she curls tighter beneath the protection of her blanket.

The phone stops ringing after a long while, and her sweaty brow creases while she tries to place the thought that came with it. Ah. Her mobile phone must be sitting under the heap of clothes from that day. She forgot to charge it, or even look at it, really.

A good half hour passes before she can will her muscles to pick it up and plug it in the charger; the sight of a thin crack cutting across the glass screen makes her feel rage for the first time in days. A waste of money. The phone takes its time turning back on - a relief that it does turn on at all - and when Thorin forces her eyelids to open to look at the offending bright screen, there’s basically a trillion messages and unanswered calls waiting for her.

Just one contact from Bilbo.

> _Bilbo: I’m sorry._

No amount of shaking or deep breathing stops the tears from rolling sideways from her eyes. They stain the pillowcase, and all Thorin can do is curl away from the phone, hug her legs close to her stomach, and let them stain somewhere else on her linens.

Her throat is sore from the voiceless heaving of her lungs, she feels lost in a sea of crumpled tissues, when the doorbell rings.

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive, major, multiple thank-you to my betas, mithrilbikini and mcmanatea for the constant support!

Thorin lays still in bed, not making a sound, as if whoever is outside her door will be able to hear her three rooms away. It can’t be Bilbo. She doesn’t live in a romantic movie, after all. It’s probably only the janitor, leaving a package for her. She doesn’t even dare to _breathe_ , waiting for something to happen. In the following moments of suspended awareness in the darkness of her blanket cocoon, Thorin can dream that it’s Bilbo at the door. It’d be a balm for her wounds, just to think that Bilbo had stopped by. The dream quickly crumbles, however, when three loud thumps jerk her from her stupor.

Dwalin’s roaring voice manages to travel all the way through her apartment. ‘Thorin, you better be _dead!_ I’ll kill you if you’re in there, sleeping through my calls.’

Sitting up, Thorin considers ignoring him. It’s what her brain wants to do: stay away from the possibility of further pain. At least inside the safety of her apartment, she doesn’t have to deal with disappointments.

‘Come open the damn door. It’s just me.’ Dwalin’s voice is quieter now. ‘Talk to me.’

She doesn’t feel ready to talk yet, but Dwalin is her best friend. At least letting him know she’s alive should be good enough. Thorin pushes herself to a standing position, and slowly drags her feet towards the living room.

‘I’m here. Sorry.’

A knock on the door followed by a curse has Thorin wondering if she had just startled Dwalin.

‘Well, open up. This ain’t normal. I had to lie to your sister, saying I’d seen you since Monday.’ Dwalin sounds distressed. ‘At least tell me what’s wrong.’

Thorin sighs, and absent-mindedly brushes the hair off her face. She must look like a mess, but she silently hopes it won’t matter. Dwalin’s expression when she unlocks the door doesn’t tell her much, as he only seems to be frustrated and worried.

‘Come in. Sit down,’ Thorin mumbles.

She’s already sitting on the couch before Dwalin crosses the threshold, feeling coldness ride up from the tiles to her naked feet, but not caring enough to bring her legs up, or look for shoes.

‘You look like roadkill. What the hell happened?’

Thorin lets out a huff of breath, something that should be closer to laughter, but it sounds more like a sigh. ‘I… _things._ Things happened. It’s a long story, I don’t know if I have the-’

He cuts through. ‘Let’s make you something to eat first, then. I bet a meal will give you the strength to talk to me.’ Dwalin’s glance to Thorin’s expression of disbelief has him adding, ‘Or perhaps the power to try to kick me out of your apartment.’

The puff of breath that escapes from between Thorin’s lips is at least accompanied by a weak smile this time.

During the messy preparation of a simple meal, Thorin sits at the kitchen table. Slumped forward, at times hiding her face in the cradle of her arms, but at least she can stomach chit-chatting with Dwalin. They speak of their respective families, of work, of anything that doesn’t require their whole focus.

He crouches in front of the fridge, knee joints popping, to search for some ingredient, and ends up finding the bottle that was left over from Thorin’s last date with Bilbo.

‘We could have a drink of this, it’s already open.’ Dwalin unscrews the lid to sniff at the mouth of the bottle. ‘Hasn’t turned to vinegar yet.’

‘No, not that one,’ Thorin says, reaching forward to try to stop him from retrieving glasses for them. ‘ _She_ bought that one, it’s not…’

Dwalin’s brow furrows, and he stares at her for a second before placing the beverage back in the fridge. ‘Fine. We still have the beer I brought. And a bottle of rum? Or something like that. What do you say?’

‘You can have whatever you want.’ Thorin waves her hand in dismissal. She blinks, however, at the sight of him pushing half a glass of the rum towards her.

‘Seems like you’re needing help to spill it. It doesn’t do good for your head to keep it all bottled in, you know? Just drink up.’

After a surprisingly decent plate of cooked rice and tender beef, Thorin finds herself downing a third shot of rum. Dwalin is right. If she doesn’t talk about this, she’ll end up feeling bitter and isolated. Her belly feels warm with alcohol, so maybe she’ll soon be too drunk to mind crying in front of him.

Thorin takes her time explaining the whole story for the second time this month, sparing the detail that it was Dwalin’s brother who recommended the Parlor to her. Dwalin, as always, is a great audience, paying attention and respecting the silent pauses Thorin takes to center herself. He never comments on the fact that Bilbo is, in fact, a woman Thorin’s interested in. Although last time they touched on the subject Thorin considered herself heterosexual, Dwalin is just as understanding as Thorin hoped he would be. After all, Dwalin had gone through similar issues back when he met Nori, before she transitioned.

When they reach her latest visit to the Parlor, however, Thorin can’t bear to look him in the eye. The wave of embarrassment at remembering the hobbit guard standing at the door still overwhelms her limbs, climbing hot towards her face, making her eyes sting. Thorin manages to tell Dwalin of the message Bilbo left, and how she hasn’t gotten up from bed to answer the phone since Monday evening.

They spend a minute in silence, Dwalin only moving to pour her a fourth glass. It feels like a mournful, considerate silence. The finality of it, of Dwalin’s unspoken condolences for her dead relationship, brings a knot to her throat, and she swallows the entire draft of rum to try to soothe it.

‘That Bilbo is a true cock, though, isn’t she?’ Dwalin finally spits out.

Thorin shakes her head. ‘I must’ve been delusional. It’s not her fault.’

‘She was into you, Thorin. But she treated you like trash in the end, there.’

Scratching her head, Thorin considers permitting herself to go along with Dwalin’s reasoning. It’s pathetic how comforting it feels, to allow her feelings to be protected by such a lie. Thorin knows she was clearly out of line by asking Bilbo to be her girlfriend, and the outcome of the argument was proof of how mistaken Thorin had been.

‘Bilbo told me how her last male client was a stalker, a nasty guy, and he’s the reason they have guards in the Parlor nowadays. He demanded her time, went after her, caused her shame. It’s not far from what I did, you know.’ Thorin looks down at her rough, shaking fingers, wishing she’d never stepped forward to touch Bilbo. She had looked so small and _scared,_ cornered against the wall.

Dwalin reaches forward to cover her hands with his, pressing them tightly, almost painfully. ‘Don’t you dare make a monster out of yourself. You’re in love, and that’s not a bad thing. She read it all wrong, and it’s not _your_ fault, either.’

Pulling one of her hands away from Dwalin’s grip, Thorin covers the track of her tears.

‘If I could, I’d drag her here by the ear to apologize. I can’t believe she left you thinking you’re the bad guy in this.’

Thorin shakes her head, not even recognizing Dwalin’s tone as a joke. Try as she might, the sobbing doesn’t stop, her throat constricting impossibly, making it hard to breathe. She feels like she’s choking in grief, but Dwalin pushes her head against his chest. Even though there’s less air to pull from her gasping, the pain doesn’t change. Dwalin might want to punch Bilbo for it, but the fact is that Thorin was a threat. It’s also still true that Bilbo had rejected her.

‘I can’t hate her, Dwalin. I’m a fucking _idiot,’_ Thorin repeats again and again.

They stay in the kitchen for what feels like an eternity, Dwalin patiently gripping Thorin’s shoulders while trying to calm her. Thorin gradually emerges from her gloomy thoughts to notice that time hasn’t stopped, and odd sounds are ricocheting around the cold walls of her apartment. Dwalin’s phone is buzzing in his pocket, but he doesn’t pick up. Thorin’s landline is ringing incessantly, and her own cellphone’s small but constant vibration is audible from the kitchen. She eventually stops hiccoughing, and the discomfort of a stuffy nose speaks louder than the need for allowing her feelings to wreck their way through her. Dwalin helps Thorin stand up, and holds her hair back while she washes her face in the bathroom sink.

‘I left a huge stain on your shirt. I think I have something that’ll fit you in my closet.’ Thorin says apologetically after blowing her nose on toilet paper.

‘Don’t worry about that. I brought a coat that’ll cover it.’ Dwalin laughs, brushing a hand over the round tear blot as if it was nothing. ‘Do you want to go out for a pint with Nori and me? I can ask her to meet us nearby, or something.’

Thorin shakes her head. ‘Thanks. The last thing I want is to leave the house today.’

‘You can call me if you need to talk, alright? Don’t hole yourself up like a damn mole again, or I’ll really come to kill you. I’m not joking, stop laughing.’

‘Alright. Let me walk you down to the gate.’ Thorin sighs, the warm relief of laughter making her chest feel lighter. Accompanying Dwalin is the least she can do after what he’s put up with today.

She rushes to put on a pair of jeans and a sweater on top of her pajamas. Just one look out the window tells her it’s going to rain, so she looks in vain for an umbrella. She’ll just have to get rained on in case Dwalin decides to chat some more by the exit, like he tends to do.

They take the elevator down, even though Thorin’s apartment is on the third floor. Dwalin tells her that he and Nori will be staying in town for at least two weeks, so Nori can see the doctor about her surgery. Thorin looks at him through the mirror on the wall of the elevator while quickly braiding her hair, and sees how worried he is about it. He’s a good dwarrow.

Once on the ground level, Thorin groans at the sight of rain droplets already hitting the stone outside.

‘It’s fine, I’ll catch a cab on the street corner.’ Dwalin hasn’t brought an umbrella either.

‘Okay,’ Thorin says while pulling him in for a quick hug. ‘You can come over any time. I can’t promise I’ll be answering the phone anytime soon, but I’ll let you in.’

Dwalin squeezes her, and nods. ‘I’ll come by in a few days.’

Looking for Dolir to open the gate as quickly as possible for Dwalin, Thorin catches sight of someone waiting on the curb in front of her building. She freezes in place. The ginger hair and small stature are unmistakable.

Her heart swells up painfully; she feels happy to see Bilbo, but at the same time, her brain stamps down any shred of hope. She must be here to settle the last payments, obviously. Dwalin is waving his palm in front of Thorin’s face when she finally looks up.

‘Thorin? What…?’

Through her teeth, she admits, ‘That’s her. Bilbo. Outside.’

Dwalin subtly glances at her, and then back to Thorin. He grabs her by the shoulders. ‘Don’t let her smash your heart to pieces, Thorin. You haven’t done anything wrong. Don’t let her convince you otherwise.’

As much as she’d prefer to have Dwalin stay for moral support, Thorin understands that it would be much more awkward. So when he gives her hands one last press and leaves, Thorin doesn’t ask him not to go. She watches him coolly assess Bilbo from head to foot before heading toward the taxi stop, while Bilbo frowns in confusion.

They look at each other through the rain and the metal gate bars, but Thorin can’t tell what Bilbo might want to say. It starts pouring heavily, and Bilbo seems to not have brought an umbrella, either.

‘Thorin! I want to talk to you,’ Bilbo cries, trying to be heard through the loud pounding of rain.

Dwalin’s words come back to her. She can’t change her mind about her feelings, but all her heart wants is to let Bilbo enter. Taking a step back towards the safety of her building, Thorin shakes her head “no”. The elevator is waiting for her, and she flees.

 

* * *

 

That was the right thing to do, she assures herself. Thorin paces the living room, stopping only to bite her nails, and to turn back around when she gets too close to the window. She could look down and check if Bilbo is still down there, but it’d break her.

Seeking something to distract her chaotic mind, Thorin goes to her bedroom and plucks her phone from the charger. There are even more unread messages since the last time she looked, and more from Bilbo herself. She feels incredibly silly that it brings her excitement to see that Bilbo contacted her, even though the hobbit herself was already there in person.

> Bilbo: Can you answer your phone? I’m trying to call you.  
>  Bilbo: I’m starting to worry, Thorin. Are you alright?  
>  Bilbo: I’m outside your building, will you come down to talk to me?  
>  Bilbo: Please?

Thorin feels as if she just ran a marathon. Her body is itching and aching to look out the window. These messages are way too vague; there’s no way to ascertain that Bilbo wants anything more than to confirm the end of their relationship. But what if it’s more than that?

Phone in hand, Thorin gives in and looks outside.

A mistake. Bilbo is still there, looking drenched, but holding a small handbag over her head to cover her eyes from the rain while watching for Thorin. She waves her arm, and gestures “phone” with her hand.

Not knowing what else to do, Thorin childishly shakes her head again, and cowers from the ledge. In time, surely, Bilbo would give up and go home. If not…

Thorin shakes her head, and looks for things to do in the house. She piles the dirty dishes from Dwalin’s cooking in the sink, and takes a sip of water. Bilbo will certainly lose patience and leave soon: the rain hasn’t stopped, making it feel even chillier out there. There are clean sheets hanging from the rack in the laundry, so perhaps it’s a sign to change her bedding. Avoiding the temptation of looking out the window once more, Thorin crosses the living room towards her bedroom. Once her bed is changed, the air feels a little clearer.

Taking a shower will probably make her feel even fresher, so she steps inside her tiny tub. All the warmth of the spray does is remind her of Bilbo possibly freezing to death under the winter downpour. Rinsing off the lather of shampoo and soap had never felt this agonizing and slow, and Thorin is fidgeting impatiently by the end of it. She carelessly oils her long hair, and as soon as she dresses herself, she skids to the living room to see if Bilbo is still there.

Where Bilbo was standing before, there’s someone else under a large navy blue umbrella with the name and address of her building. It takes her a while to recognize that it’s actually the large parasol Dolir uses while covering guests from the elements, and Thorin wonders what he might be doing outside.

Bilbo is _gone,_ then, like she had expected. Unlocking her mobile phone again, Thorin checks the chat to see if there aren’t any words of farewell. Bilbo’s status changes, instead, and there’s a notice that she’s currently typing.

> Bilbo: You’re online! Please let me in? Please?  
>  Bilbo: It’s freezing.

Thorin frowns, and looks outside again. Underneath the darkness of the parasol, Bilbo is holding her phone, the brightness of the screen reflecting off her face. She looks even smaller under there.

> Bilbo: I really regret what happened Monday. Let’s talk about it, please? Please please please…

This is torture. Thorin tears away from the window again, and forces herself to sit on the sofa. She can’t help but leave the chat open, however, while she stares ahead. Bilbo had waited for over an hour in the rain, already.

_What now?_

Dwalin is most certainly right. _Probably._ Yes, Thorin had been acting according to her feelings, and there is nothing wrong with feeling love. And Bilbo had reacted badly. So, what should Thorin do? Speaking to Bilbo is the thing her body and soul most want to do. But it feels like it would open the gate for uncontrollable urges. Thorin would want to ask inappropriate questions, demand unsuitable touches, and beg Bilbo to forget that Sunday had never happened. She would wish she never confessed her feelings, so that she’d be able to continue loving Bilbo without heartbreak.

Thorin’s nervously bouncing her knee while picking at the skin around her nails when someone knocks on the front door for the second time today.

‘Thorin?’

How did Bilbo get in? Thorin panics for a moment, rushing to look through the peephole to make sure it’s her. Bilbo’s too short for Thorin to see her face clearly, but the frizzy, wet curls visible on the rim of the lens are the right shade of copper.

‘Please open… I-’ A loud sneeze. ‘I’m sorry. I really need to see you.’

Although the wet sniffle makes Thorin’s chest constrict with fondness, she picks up the intercom from the kitchen. Thorin never allowed Bilbo inside, so why had the building guard allowed her to go through?

Dolir picks up the call. ‘Yes?’

‘Dolir, was it you who allowed a red-haired hobbit to come in just now?’

‘Oh yeah, that was me, Ms. Thorin. I remember her coming as your guest at least two times before, so I let her in. She looked like she wasn’t able to phone you, just like Mr Dwalin earlier today. And she was out in the rain without an umbrella! It only seemed like the right thing to do.’ He pauses. ‘Was she not supposed to be allowed in, Miss?’

Closing her eyes and cursing her soft heart, Thorin replies. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you later.’

‘Thorin, I can hear you in there. I’m sorry I sneaked in, but I didn’t know what else to do. I’m… There’s so much I need to tell you, I didn’t want to do it over the phone. I wanted to look into your eyes while telling you all of it.’ Bilbo’s muffled voice sounds stuffy. Thorin convinces herself that it must be because of the rain.

‘... I don’t know if I should. Dwalin told me not to let you make me feel guilty for what I said. I don’t want to be hurt again, Bilbo…’ Thorin can feel her hands become clammy and cold at the same time. ‘My feelings haven’t changed.’

Thorin can hear Bilbo running her hand on the surface of the wood. ‘We can’t know for certain if it’ll be okay in the end, but... but I never wanted to hurt you. Will you let me try to make it better?’ Bilbo sighs. ‘At least give me a chance?’

Before Thorin has time to consider, she’s unlocking the door. She steps back to let it open, and takes the sight of Bilbo in: clothes entirely soaked through, shivering, her nose red, and hair plastered to her scalp. It makes Thorin’s chest weigh down with guilt and pity.

Thorin silently walks towards the bedroom to get a fresh towel, but Bilbo holds her by the shirt before she leaves the living room. ‘Wait… Thorin. Please listen.’

‘I was going to…’ Thorin turns around, and gestures to Bilbo’s wet hair, but the hobbit seems too desperate to pay attention.

‘I’ve never regretted something more in my life. I wish I hadn’t called security. But I was… I was caught up in my own head, I read your words wrong. You were saying these absurdly sweet things to me, and all I could think of was that stalker guy. I’m _so_ sorry.’ Bilbo’s eyes are red, but Thorin can’t tell if the damp tracks on her face are from tears or droplets of rain.

Hearing it from Bilbo’s mouth doesn’t feel at all soothing, and Thorin frowns in remorse. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve known you didn’t feel the same as…’

Bilbo’s hands grip Thorin’s shirt even harder, bringing her close. Thorin was stepping back without realizing, and those small, trembling fingers manage to draw her near again.

‘Let me finish, please.’ Bilbo’s tone is frenzied, but Thorin can now hear the sadness. ‘I wasn’t seeing “Thorin” at the Parlor. My mind put a mask over your face, a mask to convince myself that you were trying to do me harm. But then you made that speech, and it shook me to the core. I finally heard you, but I had already pressed the button to call the guard. I felt _horrible,_ Thorin. After you went home, I had to think about what had happened. I took the next day off, to clear my mind, and understand what I really felt for you.’ Bilbo swallows, her chin wobbling. ‘On Tuesday, my cousins called me to say that they accepted my offer to move in with me. Your idea. And you know, all I could think of was _you._ I wanted to tell you about it, I wanted to thank you. I wanted to have you there to, you know…’ Her voice fades into a whimper, and Thorin has to blink away her own tears.

‘After having opened the package you left me, I... A jasmine sapling. You remembered…’ Bilbo doesn’t seem to be really looking at what her limbs are doing through her sorrow, but her bluish fingers are carefully stroking Thorin’s middle, as if petting the most beautiful gem in the world. The trance is broken by another sniffle, and she runs the back of her palm under her nostrils in a futile attempt to dry her nose.

‘I think my work’s made me sick, Thorin. Sick in the head.’ She frowns. ‘I can’t stop thinking about you, I’ve been crazy about you since you started coming to the Parlor. But I had these boundaries in my head, ever since that client, thinking I wouldn’t get hurt if I didn’t allow myself to get close to whoever came after. When you kissed me, I felt one of the many walls of protection crumbling down between us. And I was so scared…’

‘Oh, Bilbo… _Don’t…’_ Thorin can’t make herself touch Bilbo’s shoulders, as much as she wants to. But noticing Thorin’s hands hovering near her face, Bilbo pulls them down against her drenched arms, as if seeking comfort from anywhere.

‘It became clear to me, that while working there, I would never be able to be with you. I never felt more stupid in my entire life. You’re perfect, Thorin. I can’t believe, now, that I broke your heart so cruelly. But while I’m inside the Parlor, I feel trapped. I’m the chief masseuse, I’m responsible for almost everything in that place. But I can’t change anything there. I used to be fine with what I did, and I told you as much. But now...’ Bilbo’s eyes look around the room frantically. ‘I feel even worse when I think about how much I actually love my job, but I don’t want to do it anymore. I keep wishing I had a safer place to do it, and I know it’s impossible. There are just too few non-male people willing to come to the Parlor. I wouldn’t be able to keep picking my clients if I wanted to continue working there. But just the thought of allowing a man to touch my skin brings me back to that… guy. To that suffocating situation.’

Thorin hadn’t known how difficult Bilbo’s work situation had become. It makes her wish that they’d had this conversation much earlier, so that Bilbo might have quit before it came to this point.

‘I know I’m responsible for the massages with intimacy thing, I’m the one who created that program. But I was finding it harder to get out of bed each morning. Gradually I was caring more about security measures than the work itself. My biggest motivation to go to the Parlor was when you booked a session with me,’ Bilbo sighs. ‘Earlier today, I was determined to go up to my boss and quit. Like you did, you know? You started a whole new career, and I felt so encouraged by you. I admire you so _much,_ Thorin. I…’

Holding back the urge to crush Bilbo against her chest, Thorin chokes back a sob. The hobbit looks so very fragile, deflated from anguish and the cold rain. But through Thorin’s eyes, she’s the strongest, bravest, most _marvelous_ being in the world.

‘I love you. I want you in my life.’ Bilbo says, as clearly as possible through her tears. ‘Will you forgive me for what I did to you? I want to get better, I’ll seek help. I don’t want to stay in a job that makes me throw away good opportunities, that makes me see myself as someone helpless and under constant threat. I don’t want my job to continue as an obstacle for us. I want to bring you to my house without feeling guilty, to show you my entire life. I want to be able to kiss you, and...’

Without waiting for her to finish, Thorin pulls Bilbo into an embrace; the tightest, most satisfying hug she remembers having in her entire life. It’s the most honest she’s ever allowed herself to act with Bilbo outside of sex. And the way Bilbo burrows her chilly nose into Thorin’s body squeezes a trembling sigh from her lungs.

Thorin laughs, tears streaming down her face, sniffling wetly and unattractively, and gathers more of Bilbo to hold in her arms. Even though she’s so happy, the sobbing doesn’t stop. Bilbo seems to be shivering and hiccoughing with emotion, as well, so it’s fine. Them being teary messes doesn’t matter. Thorin bends down to kiss the top of that curly damp head twice, thrice, until Bilbo’s face turns up to receive the kisses on her cool lips instead. Thorin is more than glad to oblige.

Bilbo’s face is red, her disheveled fringe covering most of her eyes, but a wide smile carves beautiful dimples on her cheeks, and Thorin can’t help but kiss them. Thorin only manages to stop once Bilbo holds her chin in place to kiss her, instead.

‘I’m so happy. I… Will you be my girlfriend, Thorin? I’m the one who wants to ask you, this time.’ Bilbo cradles Thorin’s face gently, her freezing fingers running back and forth against the stubbly skin.

‘Yes.’ She bursts into laughter again. ‘Yes! _Yes!_ Of course!’

 

* * *

 

Once they’re finally through with their long hugs, and repeated love confessions, Thorin offers to let Bilbo take a shower and change clothes, so she won’t catch a cold after staying out in the rain for so long. It’s already 9PM, so the temperature has been dropping steadily. Bilbo seems shy to borrow Thorin’s clothes, but she’s happy to step out of her chilly dress.

While her guest is in the shower, Thorin steps into her bedroom to find a few hangers. Standing there, waiting for Bilbo to exit the bathroom, brings her a similar excitement as going to the Parlor. Changing into lingerie for Bilbo to see, wondering what might happen. But this time, it’s an even softer sort of thrill: a sweet, mellow feeling of long-lasting happiness.

It feels like hours since Bilbo entered the shower to Thorin, but once she’s out, the wait has definitely been worth it. The dress she had been wearing today was tight and short, as usual, showing her beautiful curves in an obvious way. But Thorin’s spare clothes look baggy and a little alien on her small, plump frame. The grey t-shirt looks almost like it has long sleeves, covering Bilbo’s freckled arms far past her elbows; the dark blue sweatpants seem fine, since they have drawstrings across the waistband, but the legs are bunching in a comical way around Bilbo’s long feet.

‘Well, I’m glad it all fits you. Do you want to use a hair dryer? I don’t use mine much, but I think it still works.’ Thorin is sitting on her bed, and she offers Bilbo the hangers. ‘For your wet clothes.’

‘Thanks. I think it’s best to dry my hair, I don’t want to ruin your pillows.’

Thorin looks up at Bilbo. ‘My…? Do you want to sleep over?’

The blush that appears on Bilbo’s cheeks makes Thorin’s heart jump with affection. ‘Oh, I assumed so… Sorry, I can catch a cab as soon as my dress is dry.’

Getting up as fast as lightning, Thorin takes Bilbo’s hand through the tangled hangers. ‘I didn’t know if you’d find it too forward, so I never asked. Please stay for the night.’

They look into each other’s eyes, before Bilbo starts chuckling. _‘Too forward_ … I can’t believe us. We’ve done things a million times wilder than sleeping at each other’s houses, yet here we are!’

Thorin grins, and steps up to help her hang her dripping garments on top of the radiator. It’s quite early in the evening, but they’re already yawning and rubbing their eyes with tiredness. Would Bilbo prefer to sleep on the sofa, or… Share a bed with Thorin? The thought of doing so makes Thorin’s fingers curl in eagerness.

‘Are you sleepy yet? Do you… do you want to sleep on the couch? I can get you some sheets and a blanket.’ Thorin pauses, and decides to give in and express her desires. ‘My bed’s big enough for the two of us, though, I’d love to….’

‘Yes! I want to sleep in your bed.’ Bilbo holds Thorin by the arm to cut in. Her fingers are finally warm. ‘With you, I mean. Please don’t sleep on the sofa. Without me.’

‘I won’t.’ Thorin smiles at the thought. ‘Let me grab a toothbrush for you, and the hair dryer.’

Doing such mundane and small things feels as exciting as a new crush. Thorin can’t stop staring at Bilbo’s adorable shoulder showing from the large pajama top, her red ear tip peeking out from the now dry, fluffy ginger hair. And in turn, every time Thorin looks up from a task, she catches Bilbo looking at her with gentle eyes.

They lie down together, and it’s as if they’ve been sleeping on the same bed for eternity: it’s comfortable, warm, familiar. Thorin lends Bilbo the phone charger, and Bilbo’s the one to sneak out of the covers to turn the bedroom lights off. They’re like a well-oiled machine. But under the comforting yellow light of the bedside lamp, Bilbo looks like a mirage. It’s what Thorin had been dreaming of having for so many months, and yet it feels so different and new. The sunny smell of Bilbo’s skin mingles with Thorin’s soap, and Bilbo’s warm toes graze her icy ones under the covers. The dream she used to have was too intangible, there was no temperature, no smell, no touch. But now, there’s the sight of the light eyelashes blinking slowly while watching her face, the warm fingers seeking hers to hold.

Thorin looks down at their hands in the dim space between their bodies, and it’s not enough to hide the sobs that have started anew. Bilbo huddles close, placing kisses on Thorin’s cheeks, following the wet tracks of tears.

‘I’m sorry. I just can’t believe this is real,’ Thorin says, but does nothing to stop the shower of tenderness.

‘I know. I feel like I’m dreaming, too.’ Bilbo places a peck on Thorin’s ear, and brings her close, in a tight hug.

Running her thick fingers along Bilbo’s curvy waist, Thorin remembers the many times they’d shared intimacies. It’s as if she’s starting a completely new adventure with a different hobbit, but her hands already know the way to go. The thought of sex is welcome, but for once, Bilbo doesn’t seem like she needs to stick to an agenda. They have their entire lives ahead of them, and the thought of slowly moving ahead comforts Thorin immensely.

Thorin wakes up a few hours later, the bedroom now covered in cool hues from the street lamps, with Bilbo slinking back under the sheets, a wad of tissue in her hands. Bilbo explains that she tends to sneeze during the night, and it makes Thorin smile. It’s such an endearing characteristic, that she’d never have known. She feels lucky to be allowed to learn such details of Bilbo’s life.

They end up kissing for what feels like an entire hour, and falling asleep without doing anything about their uncomfortably sticky underwear. Or Bilbo’s lack thereof.

 

* * *

 

When Thorin wakes up the next morning, it takes her a few moments to remember what happened. A quiet sound comes from her left, and she sees Bilbo sleepily nuzzling the pillow; her hair a shapeless, adorable mop of messy curls around her face; her legs sprawled out, as if trying to escape from the heat of the covers; her right arm hooked around Thorin’s left. They had slept holding hands, and Thorin has to stop herself from waking up Bilbo by kissing the back of her palm. Thorin considers watching Bilbo, but it’s too tempting to sneak a caress, so she turns to the wall, and tries to go back to sleep.

Mere minutes later, she feels fingers meandering over her sides, and smiles to herself.

‘Are you awake?’ Bilbo’s words are slurred, but her voice is soft.

‘Yeah.’ Turning around again, Thorin is greeted by Bilbo’s half-closed eyes and flushed cheeks. ‘Good morning.’ It seems hard for her to keep them open. Thorin can’t contain it anymore, and swoops in for a hug.

‘Good ah… hmm.’ Bilbo nuzzles against Thorin’s neck. Their knees slot between one another, the different temperatures of their skin making it difficult to even consider getting out of bed. ‘Oh, Thorin. I’ll never get up if you keep being so… _lovely.’_

‘I’ll try to be awful next time, if you have to wake up early.’ Thorin feels Bilbo giggling, and squeezes her even tighter.

Perhaps Bilbo drifts back to sleep, perhaps not, but she doesn’t try to get out of Thorin’s embrace. Thorin places a kiss on the fragrant ginger curls, and reaches forward to check the time on her phone, which is resting next to Bilbo’s. There are seemingly hundreds of unread messages and unanswered calls, most of them from Dís.

Thorin ponders, and is surprised to realize that her sister never tried to come by her apartment unannounced. It’s what she expected Dís to do, but she had been so preoccupied by her argument with Bilbo that she never noticed it. Is Dís finally starting to respect Thorin’s boundaries? It makes her feel even lighter, to think that she can either call Dís, or visit her later today, and try to resolve their disagreement.

‘What time is it?’ Bilbo’s muffled voice comes from the crook of Thorin’s shoulder. ‘I made an appointment with my boss around midday… Do you have to do anything today? We could have dinner together.’

‘It’s twenty past nine. I was thinking of stopping by my sister’s house.’

‘Oh? We can meet some other time, then, if you want to dine with your family…’ Bilbo mutters.

‘No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll be staying over for dinner there. She and I actually fought during the weekend, and I haven’t talked to her since,’ Thorin admits. ‘I hadn’t been answering the phone at all, as you probably noticed.’

It’s said jokingly, but upon checking Bilbo’s expression, she regrets mentioning it.

‘I’m sorry I made you feel so awful, love… I didn’t know you had a fight with your sister. What happened?’ Bilbo’s brow furrows with obvious guilt and worry.

‘Oh, um… It’s…’ Thorin doesn’t want to cause sourness between Dís and Bilbo before they even get a chance to meet. Maybe Dís will change her mind, and improve her opinion of Bilbo’s profession once they speak. ‘She just barges into my life sometimes, thinking I’ll appreciate her acting like my mother. I told her I was feeling smothered, and surprisingly, she hasn’t tried to visit me against my will.’

‘I see. It looks promising, doesn’t it? If she hasn’t stopped by, she’s probably heard your complaints. I don’t know what it’s like to have a brother or sister, but I bet there’s a lot of history there. I hope you two manage to make amends.’ Bilbo takes a lock of Thorin’s hair and slides it between her fingers.

Thorin hums, and covers Bilbo’s smaller hands with hers. ‘You had your reasons, on Monday. I don’t blame you for it, Bilbo,’ Thorin adds, running her thumb along Bilbo’s knuckles. She nods, though it looks like there are still unspoken sorrows in her mind. But Thorin knows that they have time to relieve each other of any doubts. ‘Where do you want to eat tonight? ’

The change of subject seems to brighten Bilbo’s thoughts. ‘We could go to that place you suggested for our last date? The one I was _stupidly_ late for.’

‘Great idea. I really liked the deli you took us to, however.’ Thorin brushes Bilbo’s hair behind her ear. It brings a grin to the hobbit’s face.

‘We could have a repeat of the stuff we did _afterwards,_ too,’ she says, biting her lip. Their thighs and knees seem to have tightened around each other somewhere along their conversation.

Thorin knows that this isn't the moment they ride off into the sunset together. Real life never ties things up so neatly. She needs to speak with her sister, and Bilbo has to deal with her job. At some point they need to sit down and discuss what happened, and what their relationship will look like after the storm. But right now there are gentle touches, and breakfast; tonight there will dinner, and the possibility of more. Even with so much uncertainty looming, Thorin is helpless against tide of joy that sweeps through her. She can't resist brushing the tips of their noses together before stealing a kiss.

"It's a date, then."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys! I hope the ride's been worth it!!!!!!!! 
> 
> This was my first experience posting any fictional text ever, and I was so encouraged by the feedback. I never knew I COULD write, so now, 80 thousand words later, I admit it has been a really fun and worthwhile experience! ♥
> 
> There will most likely be an epilogue to this, so I hope you'll read it, as well!


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